Hey, I'm a writer, proud and free.
With edits all piled as tall as me.
Still I return, both cursed and blessed.
To chase a dream, and ignore the rest.
My coffee's cold, my brain's on fire.
My plot has holes, my prose is drier.
My characters have formed an association.
They claim I've made their lives too bleak.
With cliffhangers that continue for a week.
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