It turns out the day after sort of just feels like the day before. Or the day before that. There’s nothing profound or life altering about it. Not really anyway. I got up, read, worked out, and went to work like any other Monday. It was quiet. It was pedestrian. Knowing my book is out…
I thought today would feel different. In some ways it does… I guess. My anxiety is ratcheted up a notch, even from its usual “stuck on high” setting. I feel uncertain about what I should be doing more of to promote it, but I’ve done that every day since I finished my first draft, so…
I sat at the table last night, staring at the backlit screen, cursor blinking after the last word I had written more than a day ago. I stared, waiting on inspiration to strike, the self-imposed deadline I set weighing heavily in the back of my mind. If I don’t write at least 1,000 words tonight,…
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