perpetualwhim: “I’m a writer,” I whisper as I stare blankly into space over my laptop for the third consecutive hour. Eleven different plots have been born, examined, judged, and killed. My screen is blank. “I’m a writer.”
perpetualwhim: “I’m a writer,” I whisper as I stare blankly into space over my laptop for the third consecutive hour. Eleven different plots have been born, examined, judged, and killed. My screen is blank. “I’m a writer.”
perpetualwhim: “I’m a writer,” I whisper as I stare blankly into space over my laptop for the third consecutive hour. Eleven different plots have been born, examined, judged, and killed. My screen is blank. “I’m a writer.”
perpetualwhim: “I’m a writer,” I whisper as I stare blankly into space over my laptop for the third consecutive hour. Eleven different plots have been born, examined, judged, and killed. My screen is blank. “I’m a writer.”
perpetualwhim: “I’m a writer,” I whisper as I stare blankly into space over my laptop for the third consecutive hour. Eleven different plots have been born, examined, judged, and killed. My screen is blank. “I’m a writer.”
perpetualwhim: “I’m a writer,” I whisper as I stare blankly into space over my laptop for the third consecutive hour. Eleven different plots have been born, examined, judged, and killed. My screen is blank. “I’m a writer.”
perpetualwhim: “I’m a writer,” I whisper as I stare blankly into space over my laptop for the third consecutive hour. Eleven different plots have been born, examined, judged, and killed. My screen is blank. “I’m a writer.”
perpetualwhim: “I’m a writer,” I whisper as I stare blankly into space over my laptop for the third consecutive hour. Eleven different plots have been born, examined, judged, and killed. My screen is blank. “I’m a writer.”
perpetualwhim: “I’m a writer,” I whisper as I stare blankly into space over my laptop for the third consecutive hour. Eleven different plots have been born, examined, judged, and killed. My screen is blank. “I’m a writer.”
perpetualwhim: “I’m a writer,” I whisper as I stare blankly into space over my laptop for the third consecutive hour. Eleven different plots have been born, examined, judged, and killed. My screen is blank. “I’m a writer.”
