EMPATHY - Writelog 13
There's this process by which I slowly begin to hate my own work. I didn't always have this, it was something instilled in me by thousands and thousands of rejections, by all those agents telling me that I'm not good enough.
Usually, it sets it at a little bit past the halfway mark, when the end is coming into view. Prior to this, it's all potential. After this, I can see that potential going away. Potential is always better than anything concrete because potential is unbounded. As that potential is realized, as the final product takes shape, it's easy to see how it's not good enough. I'm never happy when I'm done, because I know from painful experience.
That's why it's easier to write a doomed project, but no matter how much I tell myself that it is doomed, there's some spark of hope deep down that won't go away. And hope is an especially cruel thing.
I've been doing this for close to ten years now, and I want to think that something's going to come from thousands of hours, those endless marches down the literary boulevard with agents and editors tilting their noses skyward as I approach. After all this time, mere success isn't enough. After all this time, this should be legendary. It's not, though
This is why it's easier to write a doomed project - but if it's truly doomed, why write it down at all?