I don’t have a story. Just a bunch of words that fall into place every so often. There’s no schedule, they fall and I write. Without inspiration I flounder. I don’t seek the next chapter for the sake of a page of text, it wouldn’t work. I don’t write for approval nor appraisal. Sometimes it’s the last thing I feel like doing, but I always end up longing for the words to fall again. There are things I don’t write about here. I’m not sure why….