I’ve just spent a week working on an article. I’ve written nine drafts, tens of thousands of words (I’m too afraid to even calculate the actual number), and for seven days—from first cup of coffee to last cup of tea or gin—have arranged and rearranged, struggling to find that missing word or transition or element that would make it all cohere.
After seven days, nine drafts and tens of thousands of words are about to be scrapped.
In the process of trying to make something Brrrrilliant!, I made something unsuitable for the purpose instead.
Sometimes this writing thing sucks.
