My Genius Isn't Drippy Enough

I decided to start listening to one of the voices in my head. I'm going to start mowing the roof.

No, not actually. 

When I finish a story I'm hot to get it out into the world. I see flaws in it, and think, "Yeah, but look at all the genius in there. That'll drip down and fill in all the flaw cracks. Art isn't finished, it's abandoned. I need to move on to the next story." 

Then I wonder why nobody buys my stuff. ("Nobody" is a bit of an exaggeration, yes.) 

So the voice previously mentioned is that pointing-out-the-flaws voice, not the other one. It struck me a day or two ago, that I should pay more attention to that one, because the other way hasn't been working. I've finally admitted to myself that my genius isn't drippy enough.

It's hard as hell for me to not send a story out when it seems done-ish. I want the glory, I want the fame, I want the money, now now now, and finishing fiction is infrequent enough it deserves a red date on the calendar. Then again, selling a story later would snag more glory than getting a rejection sooner. 

I've never been good at sacrificing now for something better later. If you know me well, you know that explains my entire life (which, for those of you who don't know me well, is shitty). As they say, the first step is acknowledgement.

The next is fixing those unfillable flaws and if I can't, sitting on those finishes for a couple of weeks, then finishing them again. And then maybe you can read something from me that isn't a blog post.