What I Call the Sarah-Michelle-Geller Syndrome…

it’s no big secret that the severest critic of my Porn Soap Opera From Hell – in the whole “what moron thought this was a story and/or well-written” sense of “critic” – is me.
plainly put, i think it’s pretty much shit. that doesn’t mean i don’t love the characters, or that parts of it don’t move me deeply, but let’s just say i’ll never consider it my finest work, or even close.
my Creative, i just realized i’m a porn snob about my own porn.
then there are the other stories i want to tell, and time spent writing a soap opera isn’t spent on them.

but something the end of Book One has brought out is my fans are passionate, and willing to put out some bucks.
and face it, if it could turn into something paying a decent amount, a soap opera’s a gravy train. they don’t end.

(the reason for this post’s title is after “Buffy”, SMG didn’t seem to want to have much to do with it. all the cast would get together to record commentary for the DVD releases, but not her. she’d gone Hollywood, after listening to people tell her she was a star, and television was an unpleasant memory. she took a shit on her gravy train, and where’s her career now?)

so, if i shit on “Oil of Roses”, shove it to one side, continue to look down it, am i shitting on my gravy train?

things to think about…


mood: contemplative… and given the hour, real tired
listening to: “Kashmir” – Led Zeppelin

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