To Kill A Mockingbird

I finished To Kill A Mockingbird. Brilliant.  On the one hand, makes me want to slit my wrists because I will never, ever, be able to write with such depth and brilliance. On the other hand, since there is no way I could ever do that, the pressure is off. =)

 I think people who write works like that have an inherent gift others may lack. Without putting myself down or fishing for compliments, I could study every book on writing out there and do nothing but practice writing for 8 hours a day for the rest of my life and I could never produce anything that would begin to touch a book of this level of genius. I really think it's either a "you've got it or you don't," type scenario. Certainly, I'm sure she went through many horrible drafts and false starts like the rest of us.  But I think she started off on a higher level of playing field than most writers.

But I'm not a literary writer anyway. And don't have a desire to be one. I'm very happy plugging away for the masses, thank you very much.  Or, at the moment, for the dozens (ha ha ha).

I have a big 'ol list of things to do today. My niece fell sick so we're not going to Fayetteville.  Which, even though my list is huge, takes the pressure off.  I wasn't planning on getting any work done today so anything that does get finished is like a bonus.

Off to the trenches.