Doubt, that insidious wolf, creeps in everywhere in the writing process, plotting against the sheep.
He first appears lurking around the Seedling of the Idea:
Incoming great idea! You have to try this! Sit down and write.
No one has ever done this before. Too risky. No one will get it.
Later, he skulks in the grasses and high weeds of the Process of Writing:
Well, this isn't too bad. A little harder to navigate than I thought, but kind of fun, even.
Absurdist. No one will get it.
Finally, he growls and wiggles his ass for a lunge at the First Draft:
Sharing is good. Get it off your desk. Let someone else read it. You finished! Yay!
Whoop-de-doo. Your readers are never going to get it. It's not even what you imagined it would be.
How do I want this playlet to end? I'm not sure it ever does, but if I had my druthers ...
I'm going to end this play once and for all.
The Sheep binds up the Wolf, shaves off all his fur, felts it in the washing machine, and knits herself a sweater.
Ha ha ha! What nice fur you have!