The Write Life

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The stress of not knowing of constantly going
To check an email, a blog, that submission thingamajob!
The stress takes its toll; it constantly shows
In the wrinkles and lines; that crease between my eyes
When will it end; the rejection
Not for me—good luck—it has merit but
It’s not a good fit—the next agent may like it—enough!
To make me scream, pull out my hair, phone a friend
Take a chance, do a dance in the rain naked and then
Grab paper and pen, sit at my desk or under a tree
You see, it’s the write life for me!

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