I keep reading shit. It is unintentional, I don’t seek it out. I read it and think, that’s toss.
It will be the winner of a very well respected competition, or a piece published in a literary magazine, or a book published to critical acclaim, and I always want it to be good. I want to be amazed, and moved, I want to read work that resonates. I want there to be greatness. But there isn’t. It’s shit. Average at best.
I write, and I want to wrench words from my soul and type them, communicate. I try, and that too is shit. It’s all shit.
Sara Crowley 
Well, you know what they say in Yorkshire: Where there’s muck there’s brass.
🙂
Or what they say down south – you’ve got to rummage for the rubies in the shit….maybe it’s just me who says that. And actually, seeing it written, what the F does that even mean?…an why will I write shit but not F?…sorry, not very helpful at all actually!
Again I grin!