Nah!

Stephen King has me ready to write, but I am still terribly confused about writing. I published some shit the other day and the person I most respect said it was well-written and worthy of publication. I thanked him, of course, and I believe him. But how can I tell if something is good? I am not really looking for accolades. (Well, I don’t mind getting them, shucks! I would just be grateful if I didn’t have to pay someone to read what I’ve written!)
The thing about the muse. Mr. King said the muse is not reliable, is not necessary. I can’t remember if he called his muse an asshole, really, but I sure don’t feel like writing most days. That’s why my famous diary, “Can’t Leave It Alone,” has so many days missing from it.
I checked my own feelings when I came across someone else’s blog. My impulse was to be jealous. How can that loser have so many devoted readers, I thought. Then I drew a breath. A breath of resignation. My own blog has only 10s of readers on its best day! I clicked on his blog, thus adding my number to his already hundreds. Say! It was pretty good! I said so in a comment at the end of his narrative. No, I don’t remember where it was or what it was called.
Now I am off to my writing group. I paid dearly for others to read what I’ve written.