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TINIEST VIOLIN

I can't come up with a rational reason to keep writing but also I can't make myself stop. Even though it alienates me from friends and family, impairs my hygiene, and is becoming increasingly expensive as a hobby, it's all I want to do from the moment I wake up. Then I stay up half the night thinking about what happens next in a story. Maybe I could take ozempic? I don't mean that as a joke, I've heard it helps with addictive behaviors and I think at this point my relationship to writing qualifies.

It is frustrating to see other writers airily tweeting about how they managed to "squeeze in 1k words" between all their fulfilling activities. Between that and how people reliably react to my books with terms like "weird" and "had to throw it across the room" I wonder if I'm the one with the problem.

I have no idea how many words I do in a day. I just know I recursively enter a dream state every time I go back into a story, and over about three months it becomes so vivid when I'm typing or staring off into space, that real life starts to feels like the dream. Fleeting and nonsensical.