I was sort of tied in knots yesterday. I did, at one point, make a noise at the computer screen that sounded like a growl. I wasn't sure. I know things are wrong with my novel that I just don't seem to have the juice, or skill, or both to fix. I just have to finish it. I stopped editing at Page 280 out of 349 pages. 70 more to go. And most of the pages I don't love, and I see the machinations of the author on practically every scene. Amateur hour.
After we put the kids to bed last night, I left my husband in the living room watching "The Wire," and I went to the little corner of our bedroom where my computer sits. I turned it on. I had the intention of working more on the novel, but instead I went to YouTube and typed "Stephen King" into the search. There are just some people who can calm you down with their homespun view of the world and the people in it. He's one of them for me.
Around minute 9:00 of this video, he looks the interviewer in the eye and says that the thing he thinks about a lot is that he wishes he were better. I wasn't sure I even heard him right. "I wish I had a little more talent, a little more originality," he says. "I wish I were better."