How's about we go ahead and finish that eighth story.
Let's make it beautiful.
A kind fellow today told me he sent one of my stories across the country to his publisher.
The part I made out was "across the country."
Which was much more important to me than "to my publisher."
I mean, I think when it goes that far, even if it is just eighteen pages, I'm pretty sure it has to take a plane, maybe just a train, I hope it takes a plane, cause I can't afford to go across the country. As long as that story does though, I'm happy for it, what a champ, what a babe. I don't take my writing seriously at all. I can't. I try to. I doubt myself so much. I don't think at this point I can see myself not doing so. And in that regard I wonder how many negatives I can write in one sentence and still come out on top.
I was wrong though and I'm so happy to be.