In my gut I foresee not only ulcers

...but "ulcers the size of kumquats" as Tim Clare puts it in his article "Everyone does not have a novel inside them." He's right. I only have about 87% of a novel inside me. The rest, be it good, bad or otherwise, is already written.

Here's where the ulcers come in. Today I embarked on another poetry project. I hadn't planned on it. In fact, I'm still working on Bone Conduction. I suppose it's a natural leap and I am excited, but at the same time I wish I'd finish one thing before starting another.