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It’s one of those shitty, shabby days where everything is off from the get go.
And I have written and deleted, written and deleted, inbetween bouts of net surfing and eating, and have now ended up with nothing. Nothing but self loathing.


One response »

  1. what you describe is the daily life experience of every writer in the whole world ever….at least you’ve got the net…jane austen had to either eat, write or play the harpsichord.


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