Sarah asked the Sisterhood of the Traveling Blog’s question this month:
"Where do your expectations for your writing skill or quality come from? Is the source internal, external, or both? And how do you cope when you don't meet them?"
My writing expectations are strictly internal, and they vary wildly depending on the day, or even the hour. I’m definitely my own worst critic. When I’m working on a first draft, I do my best to tune out my Inner Editor and just get the story onto the paper. My expectations are reasonably low, because I’m concentrating on emotions, plot, and to a lesser extent, on flow.
The deeper into revisions I go, the higher my expectations become. And that’s where I run into trouble: I rarely meet my goals. Oh, my copy is clean; my grammar is beautiful. But the exorbitant life I *thought* I had breathed into my novel is – as flat as central Texas. Think shallow rolling hills, but no highs worth mentioning, and no lows at all.
I become discouraged. I start to think I’ll never write a decent story, much less something anyone besides my mom would want to read.
That’s when I go work on a different project, something new and creative. Sometimes it’s writing, but more often it’s crafts. Occasionally I go on a reading binge. (All right, frequently.) But sooner or later I wander back to my novel and try again. There are stories inside me that want to climb out.
What do you do when you don’t meet your writing expectations?
You can see more of Robbie at Etsy:
Elegan had a long hard day stealing jewelry for her hoard, and now she’s settled into her bathtub to relax. She’s just blown out her candle, and she’s ready for a good long soak. Hoard enhancement is such hard work!
Donagal has found the perfect ornament for her Christmas tree. Unfortunately, it’s well attached to the pine cone, and she’s going to have a battle getting it off. But knowing Donagal, she’ll have it on her own tree in just a few minutes. She's an extremely stubborn dragon!
She started out as a devil's claw seedpod. I added a wired head, arms, and legs.
His body is a devil's claw seed pod, seen here covered in paint. Fabric paint, of all things, but it's a material I know well and enjoy working with.
His arms, legs, and wings are made of wire, and his wings are covered with a double layer of gauze. 
His eyes are faceted glass, and he's looking up in defiance. He's found something he wants, and no mere human is going to stop him.
