In Which the Second Verse Approximates the First

27 April 2005

You wouldn't think that writing books could be the path of least resistance, but some days I swear it is.


I know this not-novel-writing thing appears to be consuming me. That's because novel-writing generally consumes me, so the absence is a presence.

Anyway, yesterday my mom and I were at Ingebretsen's and I said, "You know what I hate?" And she started laughing and said, "You'd think by now I would, since you never hesitate to tell me. But go on: what do you hate?"

Whatever it was, it wasn't particularly important.

Back to Novel Gazing.

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Or the last entry.

Or the next one.

Or even send me email.