Today... was a disappointing day. I came all the way to coffee bean and left my money at home. Lame. I was really looking forward to an ice-blended sugary drink-- all the better, I suppose. Anyway, I did not accomplish any writing on my script. I should probably go home and try my hand there, but I know I will merely switch into netflix mode the minute I get there. Sigh, to be, or not to be. This is not much of a question.
I did do some writing today, thankfully, just story-writing. After I was done doing so, I went through some of my other completed stories, and some of my other half-thought-out ones. I was struck, as I sometimes am, with the nice feeling that I am a good writer. Or a pretty good one. I like that feeling, it happens rarely but it does happen. Usually I go through whatever I'm in the midst of writing and mentally trash it all, this is dreadful, this needs work, this is hopeless, etc, and when I'm in the middle of revisions of any kind I feel like I'm actually a very bad writer, but one who managed to get decent grades in school and who likes movies and literature so much that she has deluded herself into feeling special. Very, very often I fear that that is me: self-deluded. Assuring myself that I have so much to offer when in fact my writing and my writing ethic is simply... not even really there. Not special at all (and I suppose that's even worse than being bad at something you love).
But then I have moments like I did today, when I think to myself, aha. Good job. Pretty damn good job.