I write something I'm happy with, change up the settings, then hit the 'Publish' button in the top right corner. Why should my fiction writing be any different?
If the news is called because a crazed father of twins is running through the streets with two empty coffee pots in his hands, screaming about the end of the quarter, someone call my wife.
It’s a bit broken, this ol’ journey of mine. Fragmented into pieces of real work separated by long stretches of figuring out to work.
What's the difference between saying something and doing something? Two teething babies.
In fact, I dare say everyone on the internet that's claimed to have cookies has never once had cookies.
This isn't for me. I'm going to go cry in a bathtub of ice cream and vanilla wafers.
It became my rocket booster and my stone in the road.
Fifth Draft 