Oscar Wilde said: ‘Each man kills the thing he loves.’ And it’s true. The mere possibility of getting what we want fills the soul of the ordinary person with guilt.

I’m reading The Alchemist again. Every time I do I get something else from it, relevant to what I’m going through at the time.

I keep coming back to creative lack. My complete creative writing feeling of constipation. Lol.

A very dear friend of mine who has an MFA in creative writing and PhD in English suggested I enroll in an online or low residency MFA program to learn the craft of literature writing in a structured way. I’m so grateful to have people who believe in me and give me resources. To try and fail would be embarrassing, but it’s become worse not to write. They said they have three failed manuscripts and you have to expect to write shit before something is publishable. I’m going to try to keep that in mind.

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