He stared at the screen, the cheap fluorescent light of his kitchen making the words look greasy. Hate to story. Not "hate to say," or "hate to tell you." Hate to story. Like the act of storytelling itself was the nuisance. The story was the burden.
Attached was a photo. A silver hoop. Mira’s hoop. The one she’d been wearing when she kissed him goodbye that morning and said, “Don’t wait up, love. Late shift.” hate 2 story
Start by admitting that the "blank page" is your enemy. Most people think bloggers love to type; the truth is, many of us just have things to say and hate the "saying" part. He stared at the screen, the cheap fluorescent
