I almost didn't share anything with the other writers. After all, they don't "do" science fiction or fantasy, and my work makes their eyes cross and their faces go blank.
I read the first scene of the episode anyway (wouldn't want to tax them with an entire story!), a harsher scene than made them comfortable, but they gave decent feedback. That was unexpected, and encouraging.
As solitary as writing is, and though many of us really write to tell ourselves a story, it does matter to us what others think.
Which brings questions: Why do performers perform? Would a stage actor act without the applause? Would a film or TV actor put in the long hours without monetary reward? Why, then, do we plug away at an avocation as miserly and demanding as writing?
Now's a good time to invoke a cliche: glutton for punishment. Yep. That's me!
Mom made sure my brother and I could thread a needle, wield a vacuum cleaner, and cook a meal. During our childhood forays into the kitchen, I generally made spaghetti and pasta dishes, and baked experimental cookies that could also double as hockey pucks or dog biscuits, and my brother's expertise was grilling stuff. I've given up on my childhood specialties, but Bubba continues as the family grillmaster. (He's pretty darn good, too.)
In an effort to eat healthier, I buy salad stuff, but sometimes it will sit in the fridge to the point of becoming a science fair project. I buy fruit; same story.
I like veggies, and I like fruit, so what's the problem? (shrug)
The local grocery store has been offering pre-cut plates of fresh produce, such as mixed veggies that can be eaten raw or cooked, or sliced fruit that can be eaten as-is or tossed into a fruit salad. Ah! My kind of packaging! No work involved -- though the price is higher than if I prepared the food myself -- and the only utensil I really need is a fork.
People might shake their heads over this evidence of laziness, but I call it a good way to eat.