Sometimes, when I am writing, I get into a groove. Everything I want to say comes out exactly the way I want it to sound. The words flow onto the page as effortlessly as wine tends to flow down my throat. It's like it was meant to be, like everything is finally clicking into place, and I finish the writing session feeling like a million bucks, exhilarated, happy, this is what I should be doing.
Then, the next day, I read over what I did, and suddenly, I am my own Simon Cowell. I realize that everything I was so excited about the day before is bloody awful and excessively indulgent. (I might as well be singing at a kareoke bar!)
Such is the pendulum of writing. I tend to facilitate between loving what I write, and completely hating it. I was never this bipolar before. I suppose all I can do at this juncture is hang on to the swinging ball (ha! swinging balls) and enjoy the ride.