My Inner Editor and I have come to a truce. Fixing Chapter Four turned out to be positively simple after a good night's sleep ("Weeping endureth for a night, but joy cometh in the morning," and all that). Then when I re-read Chapter Eight, which two months ago was the Worst Chapter Ever, and discovered that it was actually rather good in parts, I
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*laughs* That's one of the better descriptions of writer angst that I've heard in a while.
Glad that a good night's sleep and saffron cake have fixed life.
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Don't feel like composing some music do you?
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