Saturday, 6 February 2010

Day one...

£5,000,000... that's all I need. A rather modest sum of money, I believe. That's all I require to remove myself from the increasingly frustrating dictatorship of my current employment. All I have ever wanted to do is write; from a rather naive eight-year-old who predicted a life of writing birthday card poetry, to the unpublished novel-writing thirty-one-year old that I am today, it has always been a dream. I am bizarrely proud of 'We Are Disturbed', as it made it to the heady heights of Waterstones' shelves, yet it didn't sell too well; the vision of the pulverised, unsold copies are enough to make me cringe. That's enough for now; it's 2am, and although I have so much more to say, it's nothing that can't wait until the morning.

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