A small fact: You are going to die....does this worry you?
I just want to write someoneโs favorite book
She could smell the pages. She could almost taste the words as they stacked up around her.
I'm just another stupid human.
I'm not one of these 'the characters write themselves; the story just fell out of me' kind of writers. Wish it was like that.
It was one of those moments of perfect tiredness, of having conquered not only the work at hand, but the night who had blocked the way.