I have slowly been getting back into my rewriting. I can’t tell you how much for the last two years, especially, I’ve pondered if I should just scrap my love story. I’ve thought who is even going to read this crap and if a handful of people that do read it, what will they think? I think about the negative critiques and reviews that might surface, and hopefully not full of bitterness that some people feel the need to dispense. We all have our own opinions about things, but lately putting myself out there has scared me a little bit, even on a such a small scale. I remember how I felt about certain things 15 plus years ago. Some things have changed, but others have not. The compulsion to write is still there, despite it giving me one hell of a challenge on a daily basis. When I’m not writing, I think about writing. When I’m writing, I think how shitty it might seem to others. I could go on and on about how I think how crappy my dialogue sounds. Would she say that? Would he say that in response? Did I put too much in? Is this just a stupid story to begin with, and I’m thinking it’s something more than it really is (a pile of human waste vs. a story that is engaging and interesting). I continue to make headway into my rewrite so I can be done with it by the end of 2019. I have been told by my roommate to find the reason why I’m writing, meaning you need to enjoy doing it, because making money from it more than likely will not happen. He’s right. He has a point. The likelihood of it passing into the hands of many people probably won’t happen, but at least, I will have written it so I can move on to my next story and the one after that and keep going until I’m dead. On that note, I plan on rewriting this weekend along with a little bit of living in between. Cheers and happy writing everyone (yeah, that’s it).