Trouble/You can’t fool me/I see you behind that tree…
That’s what I dealt with all day in my writing life. Trouble/Doubt. Old man doubt came to visit. I let him in the door. He was an awful guest. He said:
So, this is what you’re doing?
You spend your time writing this because?
No one will read it, of course. Think of all the books out there. The cutout bins are packed!
Besides, you aren’t that good.
I listened to him for a while until he became boring. Then I picked up my pen and kicked him out. Of course, he is a tenacious guest. He stood outside the window and shouted at me. He interrupted my concentration and my sentences suffered, but I wrote my pages and eventually he went away. I know he’ll be back again tomorrow. The jerk. This Ry Cooder song, from his great 1979 album Bop Till You Drop, sums it up pretty good.