The Gap. No, not that one.

There are times when when I hate what I write. It's not affecting. It's clumsy. It's embarrassingly earnest. It's error-ridden. It's not clever. It's not published. It's not Cormac McCarthy. It's not David Lynch. It's not good enough.

And by extension I'm not good enough. I'm not talented enough. I'm not special enough. I'm not getting reviewed enough. I'm not reaching enough people.

And I'm not.

Not yet.

But I'm on my way.