I should be writing. No, correct that, I need to be writing but instead I'm lamenting the latest critique from my significant other on the re-write of a story I read at OryCon last month. He hates it. No, correct that, he doesn't hate it; he says, "It's better" and my ears hear his voice trail off at the end of "better" as though he's a flat tire and just now ran out of air.

Of course, he doesn't really sound this way but that is what my ears hear and my heart feels. I ought to just forget what he says because since when do family relatives know doodly-squat about writing anyway.

Let's not mention he's a writer too...

But if I write it to please him, I ought to just give him the story and let him write it because it surely won't be mine and sure as hell won't sound like me.

Ever feel like going back to the original version of the story and calling it good regardless of if it ever sells or not? Would shelving this story be such a crime? I think I need to move on.