Sometimes, like now, I think that I wish I could write all day.
I have 63 drafts of stories, articles and novels in this WordPress account but I just can’t get around to finishing them
Today I wrote half of a wonderful story for you, but I just don’t have the time to finish it and post it out.
It’s about twenty-five minutes to eleven at night here in York, UK and I have to go to bed now, otherwise I’ll be too tired to go through the events of tomorrow, most of which will be either banal, routine or for the benefit of someone else, even though they won’t appreciate one jot of what I do.
Sometimes I ask, like now: when is my life going to begin?
On the bright side – at least I have a life.