Not a word written. 50,000

behind. I missed the roar

of 3 million fingers

racing on the keyboard –

 

my competitors; my companions.

No thick manuscript –

200 pieces of fresh copier

paper – speeding through

 

that printer finish line.

Regret. But there are others.

Novels complete

or hanging mid-sentence.

 

People I’ve birthed,

waiting for climax, dénouement,

a conclusion. Ever stuck

in rising action. Do not

 

regret that no new plot

twists developed on the screen

and page. (There were

 

plenty here on the ground.)

Make sure former characters are

well-rounded, not flat.

Get back to writing that.

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