Dealing with despondency about writing

I have a writer/editor brain and a smut-consuming brain. They happen to occupy the same skull for the moment, which is equal parts convenient and frustrating. So, too, is the fact that that skull happens to be mine.

As I am consistently of two minds on the subject of smut, it's only fitting that I have two separate approaches to dealing with being ignored and criticized.

The first approach is to recall my near-infinite contempt for the common man, go find a story that has tons of views and high ratings, and realize very quickly that that story is sloppily written and poorly edited compared to my own work.

The second approach is to find a story to masturbate to - which also has a pretty good chance of being sloppily written and/or edited compared to my own work - and, well... masturbate to it, because when I'm horny, I have only the one fuck to give, and guess who's getting it?

It's not for me to say whether the first approach accurately assesses reality. The two together, however, strike a balance regardless. It's ego and humility. It's two wildly different perspectives. It's a reminder that we're all dumb monkeys with captive narrators stitched on top of them, and that everything about our existence is either absurd, boring, or both. After that, what is there left to do but write if you want to write?
I’m doing much better today, thanks.

Had some lovely comments from other writers, which is worth more than more general approbation.

Em
 
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