I forgot where the gym is. Sleep has become a practical joke & the weariness grows on me like the seven facial hair genetics gafve me: slow, almost unnoticeable until one day it’s an unsightly mud-packed zit.
Both my copywriting and noveling took the same punch-in-the-face.
The shit’s usually easy, but my boss was tough on my copy today. I have to thank him. Sometimes I need someone to keep my writing disciplined.
My cousin has pointed out that in Book of Blues I have the occasional tendency to use 2 words where I could have used 1. I agree. But if didn’t do it in some spots I wouldn’t have any writing style. Sometimes you have to turn a phrase. How vanilia would the world be if there wasn’t a little color within expression?