I convince myself it is not important to me. I tell its characters I despise them. With a cheeky Chita Rivera West Side Story bye bye, I lock them out of my heart.
The truth is, most written works are sent out into the world to be, essentially, slaughtered. And I do believe it's a lot easier to watch characters you have unconvincingly convinced yourself you hate...get tossed into the inevitable bloodbath.
Today I went back to one of these 'hated' manuscripts. One of these good for nothing, you deserve to get the crap kicked out of you projects and I read a random page.
I expected to throw it against the wall, give it the finger, maybe I'd metaphorically drown it in a bathtub or toss a glass of whiskey in its face or pee on it, like I was a guy, ya know, that kind of take that piss.
Of course, it felt like looking at a portrait of someone I once loved. And I hated it all the more for that.