can't. write. today.

Monday afternoons are supposed to be writing time for me, before I go to my grad class at 5:30. I'm having a hell of a time. Not. fun.

There's TOO MUCH to say and yet it all boils down to something that seems so obvious to me: THEFT metaphor=bad. GIFT metaphor=good.

Who needs to write a book about it?

Kidding.

And let's just get to the heart of the real issue: I have fears of sinking all my time and energy into a book and never coming up to breathe (mixing my metaphors here). And also of never publishing anything again because I'm stuck in the quagmire of this book.

Sometimes, I tell you. Sometimes writing just sucks.