This is something that got jotted down in my note book a few weeks back. I have just stumbled on it again and I rather like it so I thought I would share.
"You do not write stories. You grab them by by the horns and force them, quite unwillingly, onto the page. There it struggles constantly to be free of it's tormentor, taking chunks from itself and of you during the melee. It is only when you both lie breathless, and quite often lifeless, that you can survey wreckage and try to discover what manner of beast that now stains the page a bloody black"
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