I don’t work – and “work” is the operative concept – on my new novel. I edit. I look at the photos of much younger writers reviewed in main-stream media and want nothing more than to finish off the salted caramel ice cream in the freezer. Or go for a walk. Or watch yet another episode of Schitt’s Creek – I rationalize that I am studying brilliant plotting and character development.
I’m dithering around on the dopamine-enhancing internet last night and come across this video: https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/24/opinion/covid-icu-nurses-arizona.html?campaign_id=39&emc=edit_ty_20210225&instance_id=27474&nl=opinion-today®i_id=49512406&segment_id=52313&te=1&user_id=496b4fa4b023b681b33c678e33eeae1d
Go there. Stay there. And, write. Please send what you find within yourself to me. I will publish your writing. We are in this together. Right?
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