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Thursday, May 20, 2004


He sat at his desk, staring at the computer screen. He had the desire to write something, anything, that he felt comfortable with (errr... "with which he felt comfortable"). What was lacking? Inspiration? The juice of creativity? The energy and determination to actually take fingers to keyboard and compose something? Perhaps. Trying to be frank with himself, he simply was not sure.

He had wanted to write, to be a writer, for a long time, for years. He had many half-baked ideas floating in his head: "Oh, this would be a great setting for a story. But what's the plot, where does it go?" He had been playing with the same ideas, variations of them, combinations of them, for years. They seemed like interesting places and ideas. The characters were not well formed, and what they did after the initial scenes was unclear.


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