Over the last few days I've been going back over my writing.
Recently I've just been really impressed by the writing I've seen others sharing. These big, wonderful stories that are filled with life and inspiration. Where their awesome characters are allowed to do awesome cool things and exist in a grand shared world with others.
And somewhere in my head, I was convincing myself that I was doing something similar. There's dozens of stories and snippets I want to tell about my characters that I think are really fantastic. They mean a lot to me. I selfishly think they're cool. I selfishly think their story is awesome.
Then I go back and read it again and... You'd be hard pressed to believe I liked these characters.
Because all they experience is misery and hurt and fear.
A lot of that is because I use my writing to work through my issues - and often when I write, I'm channeling a lot of my current sorrow, frustration, and fear into the world I'm creating. Vect & co. are supposed to be the underdogs, but still..
It just feels so hopeless and bleak. I want them to be able to shine. To stand tall. To have joy and love.
I don't regret what I've written. I want to keep pushing forward. But it just strikes me how miserable it comes off.


