There is another pack of cigarettes on the table while I write this and whiskey in my Diet Coke. This are habits I claim need kicking, but are they really a problem? Maybe I simply enjoy seeming to have a problem. Is there something in human nature that makes of few of us crave center stage. Something that makes us crave plights and problems in some form of quest to stand out, or is it a possible desire to create a reason for our shortcomings.
Whatever reason I am the way I am or another is they way they are is most likely whatever we decide we need it to be. The important thing is that the laptop is open, notebooks are out, and draft six of the novel is on the table. I’m hoping to open that draft and continue work on it’s seventh re-write. Cross your fingers for me