The blight of the unpublished writer–the never ending need for reader’s eyes to grace your pages. #anoldiebutagoodie
Due to some social media sharing, (cheers for that, friends) there was a bit of boom on the ole statistic pages. We’re talking triple digits people. My ratings were comparable, if not better, than the number of viewers watching the Psychic Network at four am.
Suffice to say, the success has gone to my head. I am strutting around the townhouse like the big deal that I am. Beat that Miss Cleo…if that’s your real name. I’m also thinking of getting a fur coat. I’ll lounge in it, wear it around the office while I write my spectacular blogs and think all my important thoughts.
I’ll take big important phone calls laughing merrily with my long legs crossed on the desk. (Success made my legs longer, it happens).
I’ll make outlandish remarks like, “The reason people compare my work with Steinbeck, is not just because we are both incredible writers, but…
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