When I believe my work is shit, I don’t produce my best writing. I have noticed it over and over again, and I have noticed the things that plunge me down that cesspool. Now I’m learning to avoid them, to keep that bliss and churn out great books.
Writing today was magnificent. I’ve written over 2K words and I have reread them 3 times and liked them each time more and more. They’re good. I felt they were good. It was a revelation for me. I usually hate my stories, feel ashamed of them. I hope I’m shedding it, finally. On my 8th book. Maybe on my 10th I’ll shed it completely.