The oddest thing happened two nights ago. I started writing what will become a novel, when it is complete. A full page and a half on printer paper, flowed with ease, and a good stopping point came that will allow continuation. It's all in my head and feels doable. I've never had the inclination to write fiction before, or perhaps I needed an inspiring topic to interest me. I've got one.
Tentative title is "Day 1095", but that will change. Will it be published? I don't care. I don't need to be published to be considered a writer. Besides, I won't have fame until I'm dead, go insane, or start drinking and acting like a crazed writer. Maybe I should try that!
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November 2020
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