While I was sick, I forgot to open the curtain in my office, and the leaves on the tree outside my window went from green the shriveled and brown in a few days. I don't know what sort of tree it is. The leaves don't turn. Anyway, now I'll be looking at the leafless, barren, stark trunk until fuck knows when next year. April or May 2014. Five years
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I can relate to this statement so much. I write in much the same fashion. Even in high school, when my teachers would demand rough draft after rough draft I could never quite explain to them that I just didn't write that way, that everything I submitted to them was already "final" in my eyes.
The concepts of rough drafts, outlines, and their ilk never worked for me, and it can be very annoying when everyone expects them.
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Cheers to that.
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