This year I have challenged myself to write one million words of fiction. I’m sure I’ll be glad I did it once it is done, but for now it’s a real pain in my hind parts.
I feel like someone who has finished a delicious steak and then declared, loudly, “I could eat that every day of my life!” only to be overheard by a young and peevish genie who forces them to do exactly that.
Breakfast? Steak. Lunch? Steakey-steak. Dinner? Get ready, guts. Here comes the meat shower.
So, yeah. I have steak fatigue. But this is happening, guys.
Come hell on a bike or the creek rise past the barn, this is happening.