Next week, folks. My new job starts next week. I would, I think, feel better if I didn’t know what I was doing. But, instead, I feel like I know enough to know that I’m just going to suck so bad for a little while.
The Butcher said I’m writing about “middle-aged people things” for Think Progress, which is depressing, but true. Here’s my latest post on Hannibal. He then lectured me about Vincent Van Gogh and accused me of being a dumbass for wanting to be a known writer.
So, that was a fun ride to work. Mostly, though, my writing anxiety revolves a lot around the fact that I don’t know what I’m doing.
And what if “Frank” was as good as it gets? Talent is finite and I spent mine on one zombie story?
In other news, I’m listening exclusively to songs written in 5/4 for lunch today. I need to remember to ask @txmere if there’s any well-known dance that is done in 5/4.