Some days I hate my writing

and others I don't. Today I hate it. Nothing sounds good when I read it back. It is not that I dislike my story it is just that when I read a really good writer's story I tend to hate my work all the more. lol

I tell myself, you are a beginner, it is Ok. Alas, that does not always work. Margaret Mitchell was a beginner! Alex Berensen was a beginner, well, true he did write for the NY Times but writing a suspenseful book is different. Maybe not. NYT is full of fiction. lol

I tell myself, ok you never took a creative writing class. I argue back: Creative writing classes can only go as far as the teacher has skills to teach. There are plenty of resources on the web of which I have used many of them.

I tell myself a lot of things but then I read my story and wonder why am I asking why? I may not be the best with prose, nor the best with methaphors ( I had to look up that word) and I certainly do not construct good sentences (as evidenced by this blog), at least in the draft. I wonder why anyone bothers to read my stuff at all when there are so many better writers out there.

Today, if you could not tell, is my normal monthly self-pity day. I know I am 57 and should not be bothered with these days again but there still there and will probably following me to my grave and maybe, god forbid, thereafter. I like to wallow in self-pity from time to time. I take a hard look at myself, my life, my family and although I am looking through gray lenses I tend to see something that I don't see everyday.

Today I am zeroing in on my writing. Previous months it was my social skills and my domesic skills. I have even pitied myself on my parenting skills. Ok I can be a self-pitying person and the feeling usually lasts a day. Never longer just one day.

Music is the answer. I gravitate to music when I feel this way. First I listen to all the sad songs about love lost then I move to the angry songs and finally I end up the happy songs. Then I am cured. Now I listen to this music while doing things: cleaning, baking, rearranging funiture, cleaning out my closet, or the dreaded cleaning out the fridge!

I have one other solution to the doldrums and that is to hear my mother's voice. So today I plan to drink my coffee with my ear glued to the phone as my mom speaks on all the subjects she can come up with. She knows when I need to listen and she is damn good at not letting me wallow. I guess we will discuss the world's problems. We do that from time to time. We will complain how we dislike both men running for president. I doubt if I will vote this year for the first time ever. She will convince me it is my duty. She is of the WWII generation and they take voting seriously. Together on the phone we will solve the oil crisis, the housing crisis, the banking crisis, the fighting worldwide, and the entertainment problems. If only those in charge would listen in on our conversation then they would have the answers! lol

It is 7:03 am and I have two more hours to wait for mom's call. She calls me because she has unlimited long distance calling with her plan and I don't. I do live in the rural mountains and we just plan don't have the conveniences of the more populated area. So she calls. I wait. I do love my Saturday mornings. My mom and I used to sit at the kitchen table when I was 15 on Saturday mornings and just talk. My dad busied himself by being useful: washing dishes, vacuuming, dusting, washing clothes. He loved how the two of us got along so well. I would tell my mom about my date the night before, she would complain about her job and then we solved the world's problems. Since 1965, my mom and I have been solving the world's problems. If only they would listen.

well, off to make my coffee and get ready for the call.

till tomorrow when I will like my writing again and be a bit more witty.

gayle