Oh, I had forgotten about this part.

The part where I've started, and it's no good yet, and I think:
"I have better stories to tell"
"I chose the wrong story"
"I don't know what I'm saying, and I never will"
"I have SO MUCH to say that I have to get this done soon to move on to the next one."
"I have NOTHING to say, why am I doing this?"
"I have EARTH SHATTERING things to say, but I lack the skills to say them, I should stick to roasting chickens."

And I pick on all of the downer, hard, annoying aspects of my story, and I question the value of my chosen genre, and I doubt my ability to ever touch a heart, and I tell myself there's nothing left of my own heart but a cold stony cinder, and why don't I just go do some laundry.

Sigh.

Oh, yeah, and my language is weak like skim milk and clunky like a shoe box.

I had forgotten about this part.