Sick of editing now. Have about thirty more stories to plow through. Which means I've read about eighty of these short-short stories; my writing seems completely banal and worthless to me right now...I wonder why I can't come up with more colorful expressions and metaphors, though part of my plan was to write in such a way that the writing does not call attention to itself. Maybe I went too far in the plain-speak direction...
But this is the problem of spending a lot of time with my own writing; the inner critic starts screaming at me...to the point where I can't even think clearly.
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