If I were to sell my soul, would anyone buy it?
My mind is a quagmire of cliché and wisdom and adages regarding the grail of publication.
How swollen is my ego? Or is it that I know I am not that good?
I have managed to go through another year without striving for publication.
Am I drowning in the water I am writing on?
How swollen is my ego? Or is it that I know I am not that good?
I have managed to go through another year without striving for publication.
Am I drowning in the water I am writing on?
no subject
. . .
Ask me again when I'm thrity.