My writer's group meets every Thursday at a Border's about 30 minutes from my house. They meet every Thursday. Every Thursday at 7pm, they meet. I've no excuse for not knowing the time and the day. I never forget that the group meets every Thursday at 7pm at the Borders about 30 minutes from my house. I know the route so well I can just about drive it with my eyes closed, though the traffic is always heavy at 6:30pm and driving that way would be a bad idea.
So every Thursday at 6:30pm I have a decision to make. I'm going. Or, maybe not. Today is Thursday. A glance at my notebook's deskptop clock tells me it is 4:25pm. The piece I'm to take to the group tonight is crap. I liked it until this morning, because today is Thursday and the writer's group meets at 7pm. I've read the thing and revised it three times today and every time it gets worse, so I am having second thoughts about writer's group tonight. At 6:30pm I may get into my car and drive the 30 minutes to the Borders bookstore. And then again, I may not.
The people in the group are very nice. They always find a way to say what my writing needs and make it sound like a compliment. The really seem to like what I bring most of the time. I usually leave there felling relatively good about my stuff. Even if it needs work, I feel encouraged. It's only beforehand that I have second thoughts, like I'm having now. Because the piece I've written is crap.
It doesn't hang together. There's no real point to it. There's a couple of adverbs, which is a couple too many. Yesterday it made so much sense. It sounded beautiful and cohesive. Today it's crap. I've changed it a little, tweaked it here and there, and have only increased my conviction that the piece is not worth the ink it would take to print it out. So that I can take it to the group, for which I will need to leave the house in two hours. Because they'll be meeting at 7pm at a Borders about 30 minutes from my house.