I miss writing.

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I miss writing.
Nothing discourages me more than looking up an author who's my age (or younger) and seeing their bios and realizing they've got MAs and fucking PhDs in Creative Writing and Literature and have done all sorts of things Related to Writing Fiction Professionally, while holding down an additional intense Real Life Job...
Meanwhile, I'm over here with a generic English degree, working as a dead-end office drone, and barely able to write a Patreon post, let alone a novel.
And like yes, my life looks very different from Their Life and I am not Them and blah blah circumstances blah.
Comparison is an unhelpful little bitch!
But lord, she's loud.
Medically speaking, I would like a do-over on this summer, please. 🙃
Description: a screenshot of a tweet from A.F. Linley (aka my alter ego in the hat). Text reads: “Struggling to be creative in the midst of *gestures at everything*, it’s very hard not to take every patron who cancels a subscription as a reflection on me as a writer.
“It’s not. I know it’s not. Sucks though, right along with everything else.”
(link to tweet)
It’s Day 3 of feeling like the world’s worst hack writer and friends, I am really over this.
Me, waking up: Today will be a better day than yesterday!
Me, opening my work email: ...I retract my theory.
My brain is being very mean and stupid today about my abilities and skill as a writer who people actually want to read.
My brain is wrong. I am aware that my brain is wrong.
My awareness of the thing is not currently stopping the thing.
I would like a refund on this brain pls.