Libba Bray is channeling my thoughts today, but much more wit.
Hi, kids. Y’all gather ‘round. Mama wants to talk to you about writing despair today.
Everybody got a juice box, a snack, and a lovey to hold on to? Everybody found a comfy chair? Got your laminated list of “Inspirational quotes from writers!” which you culled from the Internet?
Well, Look. At. You.
Okay, let’s get started.
First topic: NONE OF THAT IS GOING TO HELP YOU, SUCKERS! YOU ARE LIVING IN A FOOL’S PARADISE! WE ARE DOOMED! DOOOOMED!!!!
Sorry. Mama’s a little hair-trigger today, kids. Sip your juice box. Doom goes better with juice.
Oh, lambs. I try to laugh at life. I do. When the cat pooped all over the white bedspread, did I fall apart or make a cat-fur purse as a warning to the other one? No. I did not. I said, “Hahaha! How very Geoffrey Rush in ‘Quills’ of you, Little Squeak. Your protest is…
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