I’ve been reading a biography of Bruce Chatwin that is exacerbating my pre-existing nervous disorder around discussing writing projects. He spent something like thirteen years telling everyone he knew about a book that was never published.
My tendency to claim that I am not working at all seems like a comparatively good tactic.
Yesterday I was rummaging around in a cupboard and found a one hundred and fifty page manuscript that I decided to abandon a few months ago without consulting my agent.
I tossed it in the recycling bin and went back to searching for my boat safety certificate.