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Much of the criticism I got in the early days of Leftover Soup was about how much abuse I was heaping on my protagonist. "Abuse", however, is in the eye of the beholder.

I happen to think that everyone is entitled to a dark night of the soul every now and then, as long as they come out on the other side, recognize it for what it was, and do their best to clean up after themselves.


(Saturday morning, INT: MH's apartment)

JH: You know what I think it was?
MH: What?
JH: I think it's because what Wallace said was a blow to my confidence in my own abilities.
JH: See, everything else... that's all stuff that happened to me. The fire, the crash, the arrest... they all pretty much came out of nowhere at me. Those few aspects that I could control were well outside of what I consider to be my specialties.
JH: But I'm a cook and a game designer. That's two things that I know I'm good at. Whatever else might come my way, I can at least have confidence in my own abilities. I can make food, and I can make boardgames, and I'm damn good at both of those things.
JH: If I can't have that confidence, what do I have?
MH: Friends who care about you? Stunning good looks? Multiple earth-shaking orgasms?
JH: I guess I'll just have to settle for two of the three.