Just thought I’d post a link to an enjoyable semi-fictional vignette about a frustrated writer. These are the problems all writers must face. Writing is sort of a religious experience. You are visited by some celestial creative muse, much like a prophet. Then you apply this creativity into your next masterpiece, drop it in the mail, and pray. Then you hear no response. You start to question your sanity– and rightly so. I expect a pile of acceptance notices to arrive as I lay in my deathbed, the postman bounding up the staircase to hand-deliver the mail as the electrocardiogram flatline tolls. The postman declares how ironic this is, and in my dying breath, I grunt, “It isn’t ironic, it’s just annoying…”