Writing Time: 1h Word Count: 0 words

I found myself staring at pages tonight. I scrolled through short stories that I never finished, like “Charlie Delaney, Sculptor,” “Moleskine,” and “The Underground Poker Club,” and I re-read portions of the novel that I’ve been toying with since the summer. Thing is, it’s feeling dead to me. Maybe I’m just tired.

Or maybe it’s dead.