I'm sure I want to do this, but I'm not sure I want anyone to see it. But of course I want everyone to see it, and praise it. But even then, I'll know where the slapdash edits and tangled knots are. I'll know how flawed it is, and yet still desire universal praise. Praise which I, of course, will find hollow and empty.
Writers are just as unhappy and neurotic as actors, but people care less when we're drunk in public.
I want to be Hemingway without being a pig. I want to be just a Black Library author, writting canon fan-fiction for a living. I don't know what I want. Which is how I ended up in this predicament in the first place. I'm 35, or at least soon to be, and I'm so far behind it kills me. I know I want my degree; that I do know. Not for any real purpose, mind you, but to give myself the sense that for once, I finished something worthwhile. And so I can finally stop checking the box that says "Some College Coursework Completed" on job applications. Which is a depressing box to check.
