I'm quiting writing forever because:

A. My writings are still basically the same since when I started. I must not be a real artist, because I haven't been able to change at all. Or I don't suffer from the common artist's delusion that my work is improving (Nor will I fool myself into believing that changes to the shadow alter the substance). I recall fondly (as Red Sox fans recall misfortune falling upon the Yankees) when Eric Clapton said something to the effect, "I wouldn't keep on making music if I didn't feel I was getting better." What a delusional nitwit his best work was almost 40 years ago. I enjoyed his self deception because I knew the truth, I had a hold upon the facts: his music has deteriorated consistently since his heyday, like every artist--they lose their edge, it's hard to quantify but it's true, fact. Listen to the rabble that Sting puts out today and you'll get my idea.

B. I'm out of ideas, and I can't replicate or fabricate the lifelike intricacies and innuendo that assert itself to any conscious human being. Comedy pervades reality but eludes writing.

C. Star Crossed Navel Gazing. I'm simply not smug enough to continue.

D. The thrill is gone. It's no longer fulfilling as a job-well-done. No matter how hard I work, which isn't all that hard, it's never going to be any good. My poor ability to pay attention has thwarted another endeavor.