“Write every day, no matter what,” they tell me.

“Stay in practice,” they tell me.

“Have good ideas and something to talk about every day,” NO ONE EVER SAYS.

Stupid writing advice.

I made friends with a bug last night.  But the story ends in tears so I’m not going to tell it.  Instead, I’m going to go make soup.  I like soup.  It’s tasty.  Tomorrow, I will make risotto and invite Joe Bastianich over to eat my food.  He won’t come, but at least I’m trying.

The end.