I wonder how many people think I’m full of shit about writing a novel. I think I am some days. Why would anyone get as far as I have and then stop. It just began to feel like this overwhelming task. Getting those 300 pages was a piece of cake, but now, the editing and re-reading stops me in my tracks.

I started my second book.

Considered taking up the banjo.

Shit I packed up my life and moved to London to bury myself in my job.

All distractions.

Categories: Scribing