At some point in every writer’s life

he begins to think that the things he thinks are important and that he should try to explain them because gee golly heck he’s a writer isn’t he and Mark Twain did it and why shouldn’t everyone get to be a witty columnist and still write novels everyone reads and talks about and have a following like Joss Whedon and 

then he snaps out of it and reminds himself all the words he hasn’t written still have to be good. Really, really, really good.