Crud.

Dagnabbit, I hate re-reading stuff I've written a few weeks after I've written it. All the crud floats to the surface, obscuring anything of worth: the typos, the poor sentence construction, the plot holes, all the bits and pieces you didn't notice when you were writing the damn thing leap up from the page and caper around before your eyes. They all hold hands and sing the You're Crap And You're Never Going To Published song. And all you can do is clean your glasses, pinch the bridge of your nose and get down to taking the little horrors out. One at a time you shoot them down, but they just keep on coming. Superfluous adjectives. Cliches. Unconvincing dialogue. Shoddy research. More cliches.

Maybe I could learn to love accountancy.