Picking Over The Bones

I spent a little while re-reading things I've already written.  Not to brag, but there are some decent things in there, and sometimes I make myself laugh.

One problem I've identified is that I feel overwhelmed at the idea of pulling apart some of the stuff I've already written in order to use the bones for the beginning of what I want to write.  It's almost as if I'm some sort of errant godling that put together a Universe, built all the suns, moon, planets, and people and then said, "Eh, I'm kind of done with you already," then wants to set off a mega nova to destroy the whole thing so I can pick through the pieces for what I still find useful.

What a crappy deity to have, eh?

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