Five pages of my faerie story. I read you again and again and again and again. I give you space and then come back to you. I labour over you for hours. I erase you all and start from scratch. I fiddle and tinker slightly with your words and punctuation marks and spend hours on thesaurus.com. To what avail? I fear you have defeated me, opening pages of Chapter Five. If I quit my faerie story, it will be because of you.
I want to write a novel but I fear I don’t know how.