I have a very short attention span. I'm very impatient, have a bad memory for names and other words. Self criticism is my only positive trait, though I even manage to do that badly from time to time. It is 6:33 a.m. in Colts Neck, NJ and I have morbid dreams of one day making a living as a writer and photographer. Mostly a writer. I'll probably erase this when I'm done. I believe all my work is inferior to the possible 'it', the one that lays patiently in my mind as I chip away at it. I have completed one short story in my life, and here I am pretending to be a writer. I am a writer, I am a writer, I am a writer.I am a writer.
2 comments:
Ehh.
My cousin's a writer and after years of hard work is finally an editor and just had a book on the New York Times top ten bestseller's list.
It takes time and unstoppable drive.
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