I’ve learned a lot about writing from writing everyday. I’ve learned that writing is similar to someone who is vaguely competent at woodworking and so goes into his studio and makes a thousand shitty coffee tables and armoires and chairs every year and hopes for improvement by the sheer repetition of the act. And I’ve learned that the only real hope for him would be burning everything he had made at the end of each year, or the furniture will pile up, making it easier for him to hang himself from the ceiling beam.


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