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Dammit

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So I had this wonderful epiphany happen on Sunday, but because I think it’s something that would make for a great travel piece I wanted to write about it privately.  Except I’m at the very early “everything I write sounds like crap” phase now so I keep wanting to throw up my hands and give up.  And the fact that I’ve apparently got a cold isn’t helping.

Feh.

Whenever I’m in this state I always think of a little throwaway scene from the film Misery, in a scene when James Caan’s character is finally well enough to be sitting at a desk and writing.  He’s just been given his “write me another book” ultimatum by a nut-ball Kathy Bates; he doesn’t know how much of a nutball she is just yet, but still isn’t looking forward to this.

The scene starts with him sitting at a table, morosely looking at the typewriter.  After a moment, he furiously types something for about ten seconds, then stops.  After a moment, the camera pans to show you what he typed:

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

He stares at the paper a moment longer, then sighs, rips it out of the typewriter, wads it up and throws it away, then rolls in a fresh sheet and gets to work.

That is exactly how I always feel when I start something.

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