How loud, exactly, is the sucking sound?

I’m putting this post up late, because of my oh-so-busy day. Writing–yes, actually, one of the first things I did today, preschool is wonderful– cleaning, child tormenting, and then out to the movies. Which fine cinema extravaganza did I partake in tonight?

Birdemic: Shock and Terror!

This was the Rifftrax live version, in which the gentlemen behind Mystery Science Theatre 3000 add their subtle, critical interpretation  to the film, enhancing it for a nationwide audience.

Now, while I thought this whole thing was hilarious, it was also a bit terrifying. Not the movie, good lord no, but the clear evidence that someone could make something so awful, could spend so much effort giving it to the world, and apparently never realize how bad it was.

This is my secret terror with writing.

What if I write something, think it’s pretty good, but it’s not. It’s really, really not. And I just can’t see it, I think it’s great, and I flog it to everyone I meet. I push it so hard that it somehow gets out into the world, and only then as it crumples in flames do I realize just how bad it is, and I have to change my name and move to Patagonia.

This whole critique group thing? Yeah, sure, I hope it improves my writing, and I hope I can help everyone else out. But really, it’s all about Patagonia. And the avoidance thereof.

So guys, please, when I write something bad, make fun of it. Because I would much rather have you do it than trained professionals working a national event.

Also, in related news, my wife has told me that I never get to pick the movie again when we go out.

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