To clarify, I don't hate all writing. I just hate my writing - both the act and the end product. Good writing? Love it. Great writing? Wanna Marry it.
Take Ann Hornaday's clever review of Star Trek.
Let us pray.
Lord of "Star Trek" and its many spinoffs, we thank thee for a movie that, against all odds, has miraculously resurrected a wheezing but beloved and still-relevant franchise.
We thank thee for an origin story that, unlike such recent downers featuring the Incredible Hulk and Wolverine, pays affectionate respect to its source material but never falls into slavish worship or, worse, self-seriousness. Instead, viewers have been blessed with a movie that retains a warm and playful spirit, even when one of its chief protagonists is being chased by a lobster-red monster on an intergalactic tundra, or fending off tattooed, time-traveling space pirates aboard a huge, fire-spewing drill.
Good stuff, but also kinda depressing, since, you know, I won't be writing like this any time soon if ever.
Doesn't mean I can't enjoy it, though.