Come at me, bro

So here's the thing.  I spend 20% of my writing time writing and 80% of it aimlessly surfing the web looking for validation.That's not true.Actually, it is true.Some days.Some days I feel like a rock star and write a whole lot and look back at the sentences and think, "Damn! That is mighty fine writing right there!" (My self-talk is apparently hillbilly self-talk).Some days, I come home tired and beaten up from the "real-life" job and sit down to the "Not real-life" job and check the Goodreads and find an unhappy reader.Someone who read something I wrote and found it lacking.I really most of the time don't fret about this. Writing is like cars.  I am not a Chevy Silverado kind of girl.  It's not what I want.My writing is a Chevy Silverado for some people.But when I've been trying to make people (all the people) happy at both of my jobs, real, fake, or otherwise, it can make a girl defensive to get a bad review.Chocolate helps.But writing more is what I need to do that is the cure-all.  If I get back up on the horse, or the Chevy Silverado (what a confusing metaphor this is becoming), I can feel strong, nay, dare I say, defiant.I am writer, hear me roar.So it just so happens that today was one of those days, and I must now triumphantly and defiantly ride off into the sunset on my Chevy Silverado, roaring to the heavens something to the equivalent of "is that all you got?"And in case I get all despairing and downtrodden again, this is what I posted as my desktop wallpaper: