Between the drudgery of the mundane, and the scrapheap of leftovers the Day-to-Day god feels like giving me, I feel I’m making editorial progress. There’s a huge marketplace, chock full of bartering, nonchalant writers–all vying for the day’s meal. Some commonplace. Some, somehow from the same markets, actually churned out Hollywood screenplays (God knows how). And I think I can carve out a piece of that pie for myself.
Hell, judging just by the lack of adjective flavor I’ve witnessed in other writers just this morning, I might just enjoy the whole damned thing to myself.