Everything you write sucks. Real bad. You choose the dullest words in the shittiest order and it’s all just crap. Worst in the world.
But that’s okay, because everything Hemingway ever wrote sucked. And Orwell. Allende. Borges. Gaiman. Pratchett. Your favourite author… yeah, that one. Sucks.
Everything I write sucks, too.
And my god is it liberating.
Acknowledging the inherent flaws in our work removes so much of the resistance to trying something new, or putting a little piece of your self into the world. There is no fear of writing something sucky if you know it’s going to suck in the first place… and are okay with that.
This is language and art, not numbers and maths. There is never a 100% right answer. We deal with the fuzzy, messy, gooey edges where words and ideas meet. Everything anyone does, when looked at from one perspective or another… sucks. Big time.
The only authors that are ever completely wrong about their work are those who think it’s perfect.
So embrace it. Work hard. Write every day. Edit ruthlessly.
And unleash your sucky writing on the world.
Because I bet it will be awesome.