It is another Saturday and I sit in the office staring at the angry mocking cursor and the empty white space where blog words are supposed to magically appear straight from my brain to fingertips. Yet once again each letter, word, and sentence is painfully typed for your reading pleasure experience.
Hey, it is not you, it is me. My second crappy novel has stalled at 45,000 words for months. I know the rest of the story, it is the effort of crafting the narrative that bogs me down.
On the be bright side, merely complaining has generated a post — two if we count yesterday’s lackluster effort.
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