Scowl.

I'm seriously thinking of setting up some sort of blog or message forum or whatever where writers could go and post their grumps and moans about how badly the writing is going, especially at times when they know their family, friends, and colleagues are fed up to Pussy's bow with listening to it. No-one would have to read it; it would be akin to digging a hole and whispering your horrible secret — that you know it's all for nothing and you will never succeed and you are so, so ashamed — into the bowels of the earth.

You wouldn't have to worry about it until, due to global climate change, that particular field became a wetland and reeds grew thickly and, as the breeze blew through them, they would rustle: "My ssssstoriessss sssssuck, my sssssstoriesss sssssuck...."