In the spirit of licking my wounds following last night's writing class and a less-than-stellar review on my latest story, I'm holing myself up for the entire day to watch High Fidelity, Donnie Brasco, and Gia (in that order) and play The Sims 2.
There are two problems with this. One, I have tons of shit to do. My house is a disaster, I have to send out a writing sample today for my writing group so we can critique it this weekend (another critique--can't wait for that. Christ.) and I have two classes to finish work for. Two books to read. That's what I should be doing.
The other problem is that I'm being a big baby. My review last night wasn't bad. It was just less than what I expected. This is the pitfall of writers (I hope)--that no one will ever know how much work you put into a story. I wanted reviews from four people who had read the story before I revised it that said that it was so much better than it was before...something to show that the two months I spent revising it every day weren't in vain. Two of the four said it was kick ass, much better than before. One said that yeah, it was cool. All good. The fourth, the one whose opinion is in the top five of those I respect the most with regards to my writing (and pretty near the top at that) said it was better before. Ouch.
So, yeah, today is a comfort day. Because I'm being a baby. But because I know that, it's okay. So there.