Basically if you are not deeply critical of your own creative endeavors at least some of the time, you are probably either Gilderoy Lockhart or Steven Moffat.
Sometimes writing is like having an enormous lake in your head, and you want to get it out of your head and into a proper place for a lake so other people can come and go swimming and ride jet skis and stuff, except all you have to move the lake is a teaspoon. So you’re just sitting there frantically flinging water out of the lake with your teaspoon and telling people, “Guys, this lake is going to be so cool when it’s done,” but it will never be done. There is so much lake.
I didn’t really expect this to be relatable, but if you wanna reblog, go wild.
I’d open up a bookstore just so when it’s nighttime it can become a little library cafe and people can come read and have little chats with people or just sit with some books for comfort