There are always a lot of good and excellent things to consider – art, music, literature, people who are inspiring. Lots to celebrate. And I think often of a man I miss. But I’m not mentioning him. Obviously.
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It’s coming to something when quitting, an impulse that’s usually considered destructive, gets wheeled out as a man’s greatest achievement but leaving behind my safe, nicely paid job that I’d trained to do for years was difficult. I’m someone who likes an element of routine, of safety and familiarity, and backing myself to write a novel – when in truth I had no good reason to believe I could write a publishable one – required a leap of faith.
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