The first story is done. It's still rough, I won't lie. But it's done. It's likely as done as it will ever really be, save for a few small edits here and there.
I am...not exactly proud of it, really. I likely should be, but I'm not.
People always say that our harshest critics are ourselves, though. I don't know about that. I'm for sure not the best writer I know. I'm likely not even in the top ten. I'm just me. My process and style is so different than most others that I'm not even sure I actually have a style.
The writing world is full of self-doubt.
The creative process is a strange one. While writing and editing this story (a process that took the better part of two months, overall), I came up with four other premises for four other, completely separate pieces. The five stories, together, will comprise the entire collection.
I've gotten a lot of good feedback from people -- nobody who's actually read my stuff, mind you, because nobody has yet -- telling me that they're glad I'm writing again.
Uh.
I never really stopped writing. They act like I gave it up.
I stopped writing poetry, yes, because I..well, I don't like poetry.
Never mind that my MFA is in poetry. My MFA is in poetry because it was easy and allowed me to say I have a Master's degree. Those are, quite literally, the only reasons.
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