Chokingboot

So, publishers; they like, they like. And they gesture with the pointy pointy hands and say, 'Show us more, Bootette,' and they encourage much. And I do not believe.

I have had stuff published before, but nothing I really cared about.

Terrified of not being able to repeat my first success, I sit here gazing at a blank screen. Outside, five bedraggled magpies are flapping around in the damp. One just swooped down on some long lost knitted doll on top of our shed and proceeded to jab its little crochet heart into oblivion.

It's easy for me to fix my thoughts when things are going wrong; that bloody Game of Thrones thing is now set for September, and I still haven't been paid. Not a good sign at all, but I can't worry about it, because I can't think about anything.

There isn't a single idea in my head.