No energy for lengthy writer’s musings today.
I’m writing. Sometimes it’s Story A, sometimes D…probably a line or two from narrative Z…but fuck it…I’m writing.
The writing’s at that ugly stage, where I dislike everything.
But fuck it…I’m writing.
Autumn’s almost here: hoping it brings a fresh wind of creativity and enthusiasm for wordage.
If not, fuck it…I’ll still be writing.