I have a pile of stories that need to be proof-reader/rewritten. Not done.
I have about three stories started in my notebook. Not done.
I can’t even imagine still doing this in five years. I need a joyful idea to get me back in the game. But joyfulness was never my forte. I’m even reading a book about sheep solving mysteries and I can’t even get my joyfulness up with that one.
I hate reading dour. Serious with twinkles of humour I like, but complete overwhelming sadness with no hope, I can’t take it. I don’t want to write it, but dour keeps coming out.
This post is depressing me further. So I’m just going to stop typing it and go look at pictures of internet kittens until I cheer myself up.