Life, Books, Cats

I wrote a MST.

Confound it all, I broke down and wrote a MST.

I'm not sure what to do with it. I just knew that by golly that  story with that Mary Sue annoyed me, and I wanted to rip into it, and so I did.

The MST is not here, by the way.  It's in a flash drive in my bookbag until I figure out what in the world I'm going to do with it.  Because, quite honestly, well, there was a period where if someone had taken my writing (a lot of which seriously deserved it) and ripped it into shreds and shared it with the internet, I would've gone nuts and had a crying jag and probably failed several tests.  I recognize, at this point in my life, there were things wrong with me, even more than there are now, and not everyone acts that way, and most people are mature enough to respond to something like that in a less self destructive way.

But the fact remains that I have a MST and no clue what to do with it other than... well, write more.  On the plus side, it was very nice to vent.