It’s little wonder, then, that a job as solitary and mentally demanding as writing could easily give way to the addictive and reassuring experience of engaging with comment boards, Twitter, Facebook or those YouTube cat videos.
Blah blah blah. Writing is hard. Always has been, always will be. Could be worse. Could have to deal with the plague or World War I.
“We will not carry the book,” says Kelly Justice, owner and manager of Fountain Books in Shockoe Slip. “It’s published by my competition, so I can’t do that. It puts me in a very awkward position because I’ve been selling David’s books since his first, which is now out of print. It’s disappointing and saddening that I won’t be able to support this book. It breaks my heart, honestly.”
It’s too bad an exception can’t be made for a local writer who is being published by Amazon.
What really irks about the modern sock-puppeteers is how graceless and gauche their self-praise is.
It’s not just that what you are doing is wrong, but you are also doing it so badly.
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