As I was mowing the lawn today, it struck me that this is not a very writerly thing to be doing. I think I'll spend the rest of my holiday holed up in a cheap motel in a seedy neighborhood in a foreign country. Perhaps I'll play Russian roulette while sipping down a bottle of cheap whiskey and injecting and/or snorting various substances.
That's the sort of thing that writers do, right?
...I guess it would beat mowing the lawn...
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