“No shit,” Martin Rose insists.
The psychiatrist stares at him. She isn’t the sort to have nervous habits but with this admission of a private investigator following Martin Rose she’s thinking about the advantages to chewing the end of her pen.
Martin is ragged and tired. He recently decided to stop drinking coffee and this being his only worthwhile vice, is off-kilter and not quite…
Also, any academic project of any size.
A bit less on the “wishing you’d never started the bloody thing” for me, but occasionally, yeah. For me, it’s more “Why can’t it just be finished now?”
Same for me, too. Why can’t it just be done and over with? Why do I have to read the bloody thing out loud? Can’t my cat just do it for me? Why can’t cats talk? Do you really want me to read to my cat?
Tragically I think I’m wasting perfectly good hours on a story I’m just going to put in the trash. It’s what I should be doing now, actually … but thanks for the offer! Nothing’s gonna fix this steaming pile of fiction.How’s your editing going? Need any help?
Feeling slightly better but annoyingly depressed
Not sure how this not drinking coffee thing is working out
I had relatively high hopes for 2014 and now it’s clear the Department of Making Me Sad has me on their top ten most wanted list