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I have a terrible confession to make

I just had a coffee-shop session... I wasn't really feeling like writing today. I have a lot going on and I was feeling a little stressed and distracted. But I have to put in my time. So I came to the shop and I stutter-stepped a bunch and drank my coffee and ordered a sandwich and Pished around on here. Then I put on some music and just started grinding out sentences. Then it started to rain, and I forget where I was, and I had one of those total accidental discoveries, when the pieces just kind of magically find their ways into fitting, and you get that physical feeling you get when they do.

This business sucks, and I know a lot of people here think of themselves as former writers. But there is still nothing like that feeling for me, and I would encourage those of you who have lost it or not felt it for a while: Sit down at your desk again. See where it takes you. Sometimes when you least expect the written word to give you something back, it surprises you. It becomes an instrument of bliss.
 
I just had a coffee-shop session... I wasn't really feeling like writing today. I have a lot going on and I was feeling a little stressed and distracted. But I have to put in my time. So I came to the shop and I stutter-stepped a bunch and drank my coffee and ordered a sandwich and Pished around on here. Then I put on some music and just started grinding out sentences. Then it started to rain, and I forget where I was, and I had one of those total accidental discoveries, when the pieces just kind of magically find their ways into fitting, and you get that physical feeling you get when they do.

This business sucks, and I know a lot of people here think of themselves as former writers. But there is still nothing like that feeling for me, and I would encourage those of you who have lost it or not felt it for a while: Sit down at your desk again. See where it takes you. Sometimes when you least expect the written word to give you something back, it surprises you. It becomes an instrument of bliss.

Bump for positivity.
 
I'll confess that I consider myself one of the five funniest people I have known.

This for some reason reminded me of the Patton Oswalt bit about going to an open mic and being upstaged by a guy on drugs. He said no matter how funny you think you are, there's a guy on drugs who is unintentionally funnier than you.
 
Great day today. More than 1,400 words that I'm proud of. Another chapter almost done. Also had three delicious cups of Campfire Breakfast coffee, a bagel with bacon, and a chocolate chip muffin.
 
Guy just came into the coffee shop wearing a Rush T-shirt. I couldn't help it. I said, "Rush sucks." We fought, and he's dead now, lying in the middle of the floor in his stupid forking T-shirt. Why couldn't he have chosen a different shirt today? The whole place is quiet. Nobody's moving. I'm just going to keep writing and hope that nobody makes me leave and everything goes back to normal.
 
The guy at the table next to me seems to be a lawyer, and I want to ask him whether the fact that Rush sucks so much might be a valid defence here. But I also don't want to draw more attention to myself. Everybody is being really still. They've even turned off the music. We're all just sitting here. It's really weird.
 
You can choose run away
Or listen to a legal voice
If you choose not to decide
You still have made a choice
 

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