Hating your own work

[LitNetIsGreat]

I was just wondering if anyone else, whenever they had wrote something that they were happy with, found themselves hating the same thing in a short period, and consequently never happy with anything they write? I also find myself constantly re-writing the same paragraph, or line even, changing the slightest thing until I am happy with it, but only to hate it again shortly afterwards.

I'm not at all a fiction writer at all, but on the very rare occasion I do put anything down I always hate it afterwards, I'm really my own harshest critic. Last night I was reading for a while, had a little snooze, woke up and suddenly felt the urge to write something. After about an hour, I wrote this:


The overcast sky seemed to suit the brooding of the river’s mood perfectly. Its freshness offered nature in its truest state, where the light wind nibbled the cheek, and added colour to its pallor. The hue of the riverside was overwhelmingly cast in greens and blues, darkly painted against the backdrop of dense cloud, even the solitary umbrella plugged into the earth remained in keeping with the scene, but this was not some misty canvas, it was real life. :eek::eek::eek::goof:

and at the time quite liked it, in fact I really liked it. I also scribbled roughly where it was going from there on a little note pad. Coming back to it today, I detest the whole thing. I always strive to find my own "voice" and to try and be original and true, but I am stuck by some of the ugliness of some of those phrases and word choices, so much so that I would want to rework 90% of the thing if I could even bear to bother with it at all, it is horrible, but why did I think it was good yesterday? And I wasn't drunk at all honest.

I just wondered if anyone else felt the same or if I had some sort of fiction phobia. There is nothing in fiction that I have ever written that I am pleased with, apart from perhaps the odd expression or phrase.

When it comes to writing essays, I don't have this "problem" at all. Sure I swear at the screen occasionally, even threaten to quit university completely on rare occasions, but on the whole I am quite happy with the end result and usually with the mark as well.

I think part of my condition with fiction is that I can't stand sub-standard prose on any level, which consequently makes me hate my own efforts. I am a student of literature, and always will be, and not a writer, so I am not particularly bothered by this that much; but I did want to know if anyone else ever felt this way, that would be interesting to know, if anyone would care to share their thoughts on the matter, thanks. :brickwall

[DickZ]

You put your words together very effectively, and your writing flows very well. I would say that you are a writer, despite your denying it, and I'm sure you will continue writing.

With regard to disliking something you wrote after time has passed since your last editing job, I would guess that everyone does that to some degree. You can always find a better way to express a certain thought, so there's nothing wrong with doing just that. Of course, at some point you have to let go, move on, and work on other things.

[Emil Miller]

I think it's axiomatic that writers seldom, if ever, feel satisfied with their work no matter how great others think it. For amateurs it is even worse because they have only to pick up a book by one of their favourite wrters and feel the impossibility of trying to write something as good. In my own case, the book that you see listed on my profile page had numerous corrections before I had it published and I am still dissatisfied with it. My second novel, which still needs to find a publisher, was undertaken as a spot of light relief after the long period of research for the first and caused me less trouble but just as much dissatisfaction, even though I had gained a good deal of experience from my first attempt. Prose is obviously important to a writer but is only one facet of writing, others being storyline, character development, the avoidance of longuers etc etc. Much depends on what you are trying to write.
A short story or a poem obviously requires a different kind of discipline to a novel. Then again, a novel may have an important philosophical/political message to convey or simply be a diverting story, as is the case with my first two books. I don't think you should be unduly discouraged by your own efforts but continue honing your work until something like acceptance appears. That is how most writers operate, unless they are pulp fiction merchants aiming solely for the mass market.

[billl]

Neely, the paragraph that you quoted probably looked great right after you wrote it because it is absolutely crowded with brilliance. Brian makes great points about the challenges even beyond something like that paragraph you show us. I'm going to speculate a bit about the paragraph only, because that's enough of a problem for me, too. I'm just going to try and explain how I might've been operating if it had been me that wrote it... Please excuse the speculative language, and I'll try to keep the necessary "maybe-ness" to a minimum.

Maybe you were seeing all of the successes or original turns of phrase and imagery that you managed to connect up as you put it together, and they are all in sequence, rat-ta-tat. Then, the next day, you (like your reader) would see a surprisingly rich collection of words that blanket the intended imagery. In my case, as I read the paragraph, the surprising, abstracted description of the river (first, it is presented as a person, then the colors are held up, then the umbrella--which I love and you should definitely find a place for somewhere--and finally the scene is explained as something beyond the imagery, something real) was the real subject of the paragraph. This is something I often saw back when I was writing some fiction. It is hard to keep in mind how a reader will encounter the words, and the success I might have at coming up with a way to convey something often seemed much greater than it really was, simply because of the preceding struggle or nothingness. Focussing on the solution to a problem of description/presentation drew me away from any understanding of how a reader would really encounter it. And, often, the "technique" to deal with the challenge was more prominent than the actual goal I had been trying to accomplish.

I think that a river would rarely warrant such attention. It might in some cases, but generally, even an important river would be best presented with half as many words, even though that would mean cutting out some real pieces of genius.

Maybe it is possible to learn how to read something as it will be read for the first time, even amidst a two-hour-long writing of a single paragraph. Could walking away for a few minutes help (or would it break the creative mood?)? It's probably different for everyone. In fact, the whole angle I'm exploring here might have no relation to your experience. But there it is, just in case. :)

[Drkshadow03]

I don't think you should be unduly discouraged by your own efforts but continue honing your work until something like acceptance appears. That is how most writers operate, unless they are pulp fiction merchants aiming solely for the mass market.

Actually pulp fiction writers (by which you mean "genre fiction" writers I assume) spend a lot of time honing their craft. I know since I write "dark" urban fantasy speculative fiction I am in contact with different genre writers all the time. The average genre writer doesn't make much money, and besides romance, most genres are niche markets rather than mass markets like Sci-Fi, which is generally geared towards a very small demographic. Even Romance can be argued to be a kind of niche market in that it appeals mostly to female demographic rather than some faceless mass market.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neely, one of the best pieces of advice I ever received was, "not to have Tolstoy envy" from one of those dirty unwashed pulp fiction writers who apparently never think about craft. Brian Bean ironically captures this sentiment perfectly when he says:

"For amateurs it is even worse because they have only to pick up a book by one of their favourite wrters [sic] and feel the impossibility of trying to write something as good."

Also, if you don't write often then of course you aren't going to be happy with the stuff you do write every once in awhile. Writing takes practice like any activity. You aren't going to jump on the piano for the first time and flawlessly play Beethoven.

[NickAdams]

When I'm writing prose, or verse, it is with full thought: implications, connotations, history, allusions, particulars and the general. I see the idea in full while I'm engaged in the act of writing, but when I come back to that piece and the fever has subsided, I find that it was not the writing that impressed me but the conception of the piece that I didn't capture. I'm never fully happy, but I am satisfied when the text stands on its own and not by my thoughts.

[LitNetIsGreat]

Thanks very much for the comments, there is a lot of good advice there which I am still really computing.

[Emil Miller]

Actually pulp fiction writers (by which you mean "genre fiction" writers I assume) spend a lot of time honing their craft. I know since I write "dark" urban fantasy speculative fiction I am in contact with different genre writers all the time. The average genre writer doesn't make much money, and besides romance, most genres are niche markets rather than mass markets like Sci-Fi, which is generally geared towards a very small demographic. Even Romance can be argued to be a kind of niche market in that it appeals mostly to female demographic rather than some faceless mass market.


I don't know if Harold Robbins would be considered a "genre fiction" writer but he certainly wrote for the mass market. He is reported to have said about The Carpet Baggers that he simply typed out the opening paragraph and kept going until he had finished the book. He may have been lying but if ever a book deserved the name pulp fiction, that was it; not to mention the rest of his output.

[Perkunos]

I’ve had three books published and am working on my fourth. All are non fiction and I’m satisfied with all of them (although one contains an error, and there is a spelling mistake on the back cover of the second).

Fiction is different. I’ve had fiction published. However when I compare it to those authors I admire I know I shall never emulate them. This disappoints me immensely; however it doesn’t stop me from trying. I don’t try to slavishly emulate those I admire. I just try to write the best fiction I can and I use them for inspiration.

Writing is very difficult. Everyone seems to think they can write however it takes a great deal of skill, knowledge and work to produce something good.

I edit my work and rewrite it, honing it and polishing it. It has to please me – if it does that then it can go off for publication, or rejection.

It’s better to be critical and strive for perfection than accept second best. Good luck and don’t give up.

ps I wouldn't try to emulate Milton. A one off

[Captain Pike]

This is what I like about this forum, from a single, honest and humble complaint about one's own capability has come all this valuable and learned comment and advice. I really don't have anything special to add, only maybe something from your own wisdom.
You said you weren't very happy with much that you done, once looking back at it, EXCEPT for the odd phrase or thought. Maybe you ought to try running with that. In that paragraph or few sentences you listed as an example, the first sentence is great, maybe even most of the second. So, what if you emit the balanced, metaphorical wonder and then lapse into normal, easy narrative, maybe describing more naturally an example of what you have encapsulated in a poetic expression? Here's what I mean:

The overcast sky seemed to suit the brooding of the river’s mood perfectly. Its freshness offered nature in its truest state. I couldn't help thinking how this mindless earth, with its random flow of water -- it's bugs, it shrubs in its trees, somehow manages to paint another priceless masterpiece for this audience of one.

Of course, the gobbledygook which I troweled in after your similes is completely arbitrary and may not have anything to do with what you were trying to say. My point is: It's kind of like mounting gems periodically around the kings crown -- or, considering a wedding band; the setting is an important part of the ring.

Most authors I read today appear to do this. They lay out a great poetic revelation, and then chink it in with lesser descriptions and narrations. Consider this, not that great an example of what I'm talking about, but, from Sarah Orne Jewett's, "The Country of the Pointed Firs".

She was a delightful little person herself, with bright eyes and an affectionate
air of expectation like a child on a holiday. You felt as if Mrs.
Blackett were an old and dear friend before you let go her cordial hand.
We all started together up the hill.
-- -- --
Time hasn't permitted me to find a better, more profound example of what I'm trying to explain. The first sentence that Jewett has written here seems more poetic and metaphoric. Then she follows along with her normal narrative cantor.

As you age and continue to write, I expect your joy of the occasional gems will outweigh your dissatisfaction with natural, easy reading prose.

[catatonic]

Perhaps you'll find this pertinent:


When Turgenev sits down to discuss a landscape, you notice that he is concerned with the trouser-crease of his phrase; he crosses his legs with an eye upon the color of his socks. Chekhov does not mind, not because these matters are not important -- for some writers they are naturally and very beautifully important when the right temperment is there -- but Chekhov does not mind because his temperment is quite foreign to verbal inventiveness. Even a bit of bad grammar or a slack newspaperish sentence left him unconcerned. The magical part of it is that in spite of his tolerating flaws which a bright beginner would have avoided, in spite of his being quite satisfied with the-man-in-the street among words, the-word-in-the-street, so to say, Chekhov managed to convey an impression of artistic beauty far surpassing that of many writers who thought they knew what rich beautiful prose was.

from Lectures on Russian Literature by Nabokov

[LitNetIsGreat]

Yes thanks for the advice and kind words, I have been working on it a little and will probably post some more up at a later stage - though I am finding it a little difficult to touch type having sliced the tip of my thumb off yesterday! :eek:

[LitNetIsGreat]

I thought some people might like to see where I was going with the opening paragraph (which I have altered of course) so I want to post what I have done with it. As it is just a fragment and I had in mind about double of the quoted length as a sort of short story, but really it is more of a sketch of life, than an actual story as such.

At this moment I am quite happy with it, and pleased with one or two phrases and expressions. On the negative side is I feel like it verges on "cute" or overly sentimental, which is what I dread almost as much as bad style, though for the main I think I have just about avoided this. I was just interested in sketching something real mainly from a young boy's perspective and didn't intend overt sentiment. Anyway here it is:


The Riverside – a fragment

The overcast sky seemed to suit the brooding of the river’s mood perfectly. Its freshness seemed to offer nature in its truest state. Plugged into the edge of the river bank sat one solitary umbrella, under which two figures huddled; its green shell simply adding to the hue of the riverside.

Peter sat behind his grandfather drinking tea from the plastic cup. He held it in both hands enjoying the glow of its warmth. Peter enjoyed the tea, and liked the powdered milk they used even more than normal milk, even though he didn’t like tea all that much usually. He sat upon the large holdall they used to put the keep nets in and finished off one of the biscuits. He followed his grandfather’s shadow in the water.

“Have you done with the biscuits?” his grandfather asked, half turning around but still keeping one good eye on the float like all good anglers.
“Yes.”
“Pass them back then.”
His grandfather held out an aged old hand, tanned like leather, which told its own story of a life of graft. He passed the biscuits back. Peter hoped that one day he’d have hands like that.

With the ritual complete Peter walked back to where he was fishing, not far from his grandfather. He didn’t have an umbrella set up because the catch on the base kept slipping down. They had put some tape around it but it hadn’t held. His grandfather had told him that he would fix it when they got back, besides it wasn’t raining and his grandfather had told him the wind would put some colour in his cheeks.

Peter put a thick maggot on the end of his hook, right between the two little eyes, and carefully cast in. He got his line under tension and set the rod at rest, putting it to settle beside him on his slightly uneven basket. He had managed to weigh the float perfectly today. Just the smallest line of white could be seen under the bright red tip, which rocked in motion to the regular and calming pull of the water.

At the other side of the bank a Waterhen with a stark white beak dipped its head under the water. It shook its head and swam off, causing a v-shape in the water which Peter followed until it dissolved into nothing. He switched his attention back to his float, and took the slight kink back out of his line. He put his hands under his legs to give him a little warmth and thought about putting his mittens on. He decided against it because it wasn’t really cold enough for mittens, besides, he didn’t like wearing them because the hook always got caught in them, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

Peter loved being free from school. He loved being out in the open with his grandfather, fishing. Not that he disliked school, although he would never admit otherwise, it just felt more real out on the riverbank, more true to life.

Later, back at his grandparent’s cottage Peter tucked into his grandmother’s stew. He loved the real bread and butter that his grandfather would only eat, for he wouldn’t eat that cheap muck. The meat was almost as thick as the bread, and fell apart at the slightest touch. The peas were better than most too, as they always tasted so fresh. Peter’s grandfather would always say that you had to get out in the open and work up appetite to really appreciate your food; and Peter thought he was right.

They hadn’t had time to clean up the fishing gear because it had started raining and they had packed up a little early. Tomorrow morning they would have to go through everything to make sure things didn’t get damp or start to rust. Peter remembered that he had left the crusts of a sandwich in a bag at the bottom of his basket, he would have to get rid of that tomorrow or it would start to go mouldy. That had happened before and his grandfather had shouted at him a little.

After tea he would have to take a shower and change for they were going to the pub. They didn’t go to the pub every night, because as his grandmother said they couldn’t afford it. Peter like going to the pub because Jim was always in and he had a big dog called Zanda; but he liked staying in too because he would play cards or dominoes with his granddad.

After getting showered his grandmother made him put on a smart shirt and his new jeans. His grandfather made fun of his hair because it always stuck up at the back, he said that he hadn’t combed it properly, but he had, it just always went like that.

Peter loved walking into the pub first. He loved opening the door to the sound of the juke box at the back of the room, and enjoyed it when everybody looked at him when he walked in. Jim was sat in his usual seat, and Zanda was sat under the round table being a quiet dog. The adults spoke to each other and Peter sat down next to Jim. Jim was quite large and had a grubby shirt on, but he was really friendly.
“Peter, my boy, did you catch anything today?”
“Yes, I got some Roach and a Perch.”
“What about your granddad?”
“Yes, he got a lot; he got some bream.”
Peter swung his legs on the chair, even though he was old enough to touch the floor with them. His grandfather came back from the bar and put his coke on the table. Peter crouched down and stroked Zanda. He loved to feel its big flopper ears, and he always scratched behind them because Jim had said that dogs couldn’t reach to scratch there themselves. Whenever he did so the dog would always tilt its head to one side, which meant that he was enjoying it.

Peter took a sip of coke. It had two rocks of ice in which he would crunch later, though his grandmother would remind him to make it last, as drinks were quite expensive. He continued to stroke Zanda, though he looked behind the bar to see if he could spot Baz. Baz was the landlord and was really tall and he sometimes gave Peter a sherbet for free.

In the other side of the room was the adult only bar. It had a poster on the door which said so. It said that you had to be eighteen to enter and there was a picture of a police badge on it, but Peter had been though there a couple of times, Baz let him in, because Baz said it was ok to go in when it was quiet.


Ouch, actually having read though it again briefly I dislike its sentimentally, it reads a little sickly at times to me, though there are one or two things I am fond of. In particular the opening line, which is probably the second best along with the "more true to life" and the "Peter hoped that one day he’d have hands like that" which I quite like.

Another thing that I was interested in asking was about plot, as Brian touched on. Do you think that this sort of sketch of life would work alone if moulded into a short story, or do you thing that it requires more plot action? I don't really "do" plot if I'm honest, just sketches of everyday life, which I personally think you can get away with in short forms.

Any thoughts, thanks.

[Emil Miller]

Another thing that I was interested in asking was about plot, as Brian touched on. Do you think that this sort of sketch of life would work alone if moulded into a short story, or do you thing that it requires more plot action? I don't really "do" plot if I'm honest, just sketches of everyday life, which I personally think you can get away with in short forms.

If you are going to develop it into a short story, I think you will need to have a storyline leading to a logical conclusion. If, however, you wish to keep it purely as a sequence of events without resolution then it will be an essay rather than a story.

[LitNetIsGreat]

If you are going to develop it into a short story, I think you will need to have a storyline leading to a logical conclusion. If, however, you wish to keep it purely as a sequence of events without resolution then it will be an essay rather than a story.

I don't know I'm a little sceptical about that. I've read quite a lot of "short stories" which seem to be little more than sketches, moments of action, take for example some of the shorts of Hemingway, there's not necessary a conclusive resolution to them all or much of any plot.

[Emil Miller]

I don't know I'm a little sceptical about that. I've read quite a lot of "short stories" which seem to be little more than sketches, moments of action, take for example some of the shorts of Hemingway, there's not necessary a conclusive resolution to them all or much of any plot.

I agree that the line between the two has been getting narrower for some time. It seems that the days when a story was expected to have a beginning, a middle and an end are in the past.

[LitNetIsGreat]

Yes I certainly think it is more true of short stories than with novels, a sketch as such couldn't work as a novel, without the feel of a plot, or you just end up with something like Naked Lunch!

I am personally interested in producing sketches of life, as in the unfinished example above, but that doesn't mean that such sketches have to be totally void of a conclusion, or that they can't be given a conclusive feel, in order to provide them with some degree of resolution.

[catatonic]

I could see how the piece can be pursued further to make it something more than a sketch, but I don't see why you would feel you must unless the material demands it.

Sickly and sentimental as opposed to vigorous and violent? The latter it's certainly not, but then, again, I would chalk that up to the nature of the material. If the sketch was made into a story, I don't anticipate a fight breaking out with shiners and bloody noses.

Oh and I really liked the "two rocks of ice in which he would crunch later". I do that sometimes too.

[billl]

I think it is working as a sketch. Regarding sentimentality: I think it depends on where you take it and how things end. There is enough "hovering evil" to allow a meaningful continuation. Maybe at the end we'll be surprised at some disturbing revelation presaged by the pierced maggot, the money trouble, and the gravitational pull of the adults only room. Or (even better maybe, but more difficult) we might be quite relieved at an ultimate resistance and protection from such drift in the child's life.

I do however, feel inclined to see the sentimentality vs. mortality/loss of innocence tension as leading up to something epiphanic. Maybe just because you mentioned the concern about sentimentality and Brian brought up the idea of plot. So my reaction is necessarily contaminated by analysis. And my analysis reflects where I would imagine the story/sketch headed. So the best, most exciting thing might just be to forswear my advice entirely (while still , perhaps, achieving the basic feat of pushing things beyond mere "sketch",).

It was interesting for me to look at your sketch (and enjoy reading it, especially the bits you're most proud of probably), and to think about what was in it, waiting to be developed. I wonder if you were thinking along the same lines as me--I am often surprised at what themes emerge unexpectedly, whether they be unconsciously inserted, or simply truths that unavoidably sneak themselves in during the course of a related exploration of a setting or conflict.



Editorial comments (and not to be taken seriously without keeping in mind that I don't know what the rest of the story will be like or where you intend to take things, and what your voice/style will ultimately be for the duration of the story):

The second paragraph uses "enjoy" in consecutive sentences, which sort of jammed my reading-gears.

I loved a lot of stuff (kid wants leathered hands especially). I still wonder if a few gems could be removed, just to speed things up, but it is very hard to say--this is definitely more successful than the original paragraph/fragment.

I thought that the boy's opinions about school were an interesting and worthwhile tangent to explore, but returning home after fishing happened quicker than I expected (ie. the tangent didn't snap back to the fishing on the shore).

Yep, those three things are all I have to say, except to say again that I think that this sketch could become something very good (please not tragic or gloomy!!).

[LitNetIsGreat]

Thanks Bill and cat, some interesting and intelligent points for me to take on board. I'm going to have to be quick (so forgive the bullet replies) because I have already typed out a full response and accidentally deleted the whole thing, what with my taped up thumb and all...

Thinking about the editorial comments first, I realised that "enjoy" and "his granddad said...his granddad said" etc was repetitive to a degree, but I was trying to paint the limited vocabulary of the young boy, but if that didn't work I would consider alterations, it is about balancing up the two I think.

Yes I think the boys opinions on school could be developed to a greater degree to comment on society at large, the artificial nature/removed from nature of today's society, etc.

I probably need to think about conflict in my writing, which will add more to the whole.

I think as cat maybe thought, the sentimentality of the thing is perhaps due to the nature of the subject.

Yes, I think the first paragraph is better, a little less cluttered and it could maybe do with more, a little weeding, and more of an active plot I suppose.

I definitely originally intended the riverside part to be at least double what it is now, that would be fleshed out and external description perhaps added. I was also thinking about moving away from the child's perspective too, maybe that would help to remove sentimentality too?

At this stage in the past I usually scrap the whole thing and start something else, I think it would be good for me to continue and to tease out, and develop it more - discipline!

No I was not thinking of a gloomy ending for I think that would be far too dramatic! :eek:

Maybe the financial themes are more to do with the individual character and not as an overall thing.

Thanks very much again for you input and forgive the bullet points. I can't wait to take this damn bandage off!

[blazeofglory]

If anything, I feel I am not satisfied with all I do write. While writing is a matter of pride it is really annoying when one cannot write better.

I have wrote many articles and threw them away when I was not satisfied with what I wrote.'

In fact we never can be fully satisfied with what we really do write.

[mercymyqueen]

I'd say your problem lies in writing infrequently.If you work often, you will see yourself grow and appreciate that.

[Monamy]

Dear friend,

I don't know what I could add on what everyone said already, but I'm going to just give you my piece of mind. I have a novel which is still in the making, I've written about 200 pages of it and still going, I have a really complex yet studied plan for every single chapter... until just recently I decided to rewrite the whole pages once again.

Why, you might ask.
To make it short, I started writing the novel in the first-person narrative aspect, and ended up being stuck on many things, so many details I needed to inform the reader, but whenever I needed to write something, the main character of the story just had to be there for it to be actually written. So I am now shifting to third-person.

One of many reasons why you might feel bad about your own work (while you thought good of it before) could really be your mood. A writer develops his/her skills by the number of pages written and read, to be a good writer you need a wide vocab, a unique style (or a style you feel comforting) and a hell load of practice. You just write write and write some more, eventually you'll develop your skills and replace words with ones that have stronger meaning or closer to the one you wanted. It's not a day-and-night thing to happen, so don't be discouraged if you didn't like what you wrote afterwards. And did you know that I thought so highly of that paragraph you showed us? It wasn't surprising AT ALL for such a paragraph to take 1 hour, and believe me it will take much much less for others like it should you train your hand and mind for this kind of writing.

You truly lose if your pen stops writing, so keep it up!
I salute your courage to discuss such brilliant thread.
Don't be surprised; many writers actually tend to change what they have written on a regular bases. :nod:

[blazeofglory]

Indeed writing is something that has to do with repeated endeavors. And hardly any writers have succeeded in life who did not have to repeat their writings. All writers including Tolstoy had to struggle in life to be where he was unremittingly. He had taken so many years to complete war and peace. He might have written hundred times and erased them and rewritten.

Of course I write and erase what I write numbers of time and I never get satisfied with what I write.

[just a writer]

i feel exactly the same everthing i write becomes so lame

[selkies]

Don't have such a low opinion of what you have written, if you you've already formed one, unform it.

Not because it's good, I certainly didn't enjoy reading it.

In fact you lost me in the first sentence.

"The overcast sky seemed to suit the brooding of the river’s mood perfectly"

I can't conjure up the image despite the attempt at imagery because to me a river doesn't brood. The sentence structure doesn't seem natural either.
All I can think as I read this is that the author was trying too hard.

No wonder you hated it. At least if I'm right in saying that what you've written isn't what comes naturally to you but rather what you think you should write.

Don't hate your work because tomorrow you could write something better and the difference will be a testament to the hard work, to the skills you've built much more than the talent you've been given.

[libernaut]

usually the ones people have told me they liked i hated.

but sometimes the ones i hate other people hate too, and those are the ones you get rid of.

[D.P.Trottier]

So You Want to be a Writer?
by Charles Bukowski


if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.


if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

[LitNetIsGreat]

Don't have such a low opinion of what you have written, if you you've already formed one, unform it.

Not because it's good, I certainly didn't enjoy reading it.

In fact you lost me in the first sentence.

"The overcast sky seemed to suit the brooding of the river’s mood perfectly"

I can't conjure up the image despite the attempt at imagery because to me a river doesn't brood. The sentence structure doesn't seem natural either.
All I can think as I read this is that the author was trying too hard.

No wonder you hated it. At least if I'm right in saying that what you've written isn't what comes naturally to you but rather what you think you should write.

Don't hate your work because tomorrow you could write something better and the difference will be a testament to the hard work, to the skills you've built much more than the talent you've been given.

Oh no, I quite like the first sentence. In fact, I think that it is a work of supreme genius if I'm honest, it is just most of the rest of it that I hated. Really, you can't see the greatness there - for sure??? :eek:


The overcast sky seemed to suit the brooding of the river’s mood perfectly

Poetry!!!

Alas, like all my creative stuff I have left it unfinished. I think that it is because I am not ready to fully unleash my talent upon the world in this way as yet. At present I am still doing other things of greatness and leaving behind creativity for a later conquest.
............................................
P.S. Thanks for the Bukowski poem, (which was obviously stolen from an original thought from Keats) I enjoyed that; no really I did... :as-sleep:

[hngyhngyhppo]

I hate my work all the time. constant rework. It's not like your hate of tone, mood, or voice. There is just so much information I feel needs to be crammed in my work. If and when I leave that info out I feel like others can't understand what im saying. However when I force this info into my stories, the pace becomes stunted and the true plot is lost. I haven't and probly won't find a happy medium.

[xtianfriborg13]

I think it's just normal that you dislike your own work. For me, I often have my work rewritten because I dislike them.