I've been working off-line for a while, nearly a month now. I'm sitting in a McDonald's with a Big Mac sitting at my side. The internet isn't back on.
I'm stressed to say the least because I'm a creature of internet and I'm trying to make money off the internet [(Just like everyone else.) Shut up, Matt.] My most recent finished novel, No Magic For Luke Peters rests, unpurchased on Amazon Kindle and I'm currently working on its sequel, No Soul For Luke Peters.
I had a thought and I'm not going to say it because it'll open me up for ridicule. Let me try to rephrase it so that I don't sound like an asshole. The stress of my life (my father's increasingly brittle temperment, my dwindling standing at my current job, and my inability to work in the medium I want to work in) should be good for me as an artist, but it's hard. I don't know what to write.
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