Sometimes I feel jealous and insecure about my writing because I see people who are saying deep, meaningful things about their writing on Twitter:
“It’s pleasing to work back and forth from a fiction manuscript to a poetry collection. The differences are subtle and even more appreciated.”
“Maybe it’s best to avoid new book critiques and literary journals. A disconnect helps maintain a hardened focus on my own work and ability.”
“Tonight I want to write alone, feel only that contained inside this body. Separate influence from my skin to reacquaint the child that I am.”
“Though fiction, article, and poetic craft demand different processes and inspiration, the influence of ceaseless editing weighs the same.”
“After submitting only peace should follow. Solely waiting for response reaps the soul’s rest and merit.”
They’re like aphorisms for idiots.