Curse the time I scoffed at the poor writing of that teen novel I read (and reread a dozen times)!
Curse the time I thought I could make a better rhyme in that picture book!
Curse the time I thought I would’ve made the superior illustrations!
Curse the time I widely criticized the dialogue of that successful series!
For, now, I sit cursed by my own condemnation. I fear.
At least they had the guts to be bad. At least they had the guts to put it out there, in front of strangers. For others to love or hate, isn’t that what you want to do, Barbara?
You say you want to, but do you really?
So curse that day and summon the humility because today I write badly. My dialogue is overdramatic, my characters weak, and my metaphors stale. But I sat here and wrote three pages anyway, not much. But maybe I got a little better? And at least I had the guts to be bad.