Writing my current book:
Not even half way yet, I've had to accept that the deadline I set for myself is not going to be met. I actually don't see this book getting finished this side of Christmas. Times like this I think I'd rather be poor and out of work so that I had the time I'd like to dedicate to my writing, but then I remind myself how much I love having food in the fridge. I could never go backwards. I love having money. Being hungry is the biggest incentive. Even so, I miss the student years, simply for the time.
My mind has suddenly reverted back to its old way of thinking, that didn't take long. I was fine for a handful of months, sort of cruising along the time slipping beneath me without me noticing. Now I've hit that old feeling of helplessness. I don't belong here, this is not who I am. I am so passionate about this book. I feel that it has great potential. I hope I'm not the only one who thinks that when the time comes to share it. These books are my escape plan. Please let it work.
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