Every writer that I’ve ever met has told me that writing a book is hard; often painfully so. I never used to quite comprehend how something as joyful as writing could become such a chore. That was until I started writing a book myself, one that I am fully dedicated to finishing. Unlike past attempts at writing books, where flawed story arcs, lost tangents, plot holes and general frustration brought my projects to an early end. I stuck with this one, through thick and thin, I pummelled it out and am now fast approaching the dreaded revisions stage. I wrote this haiku about writing.
Easy when I start,
Then the dreaded hopelessness.
Past which I’m complete.
(Photo – Eli Woodbine, Toronto, 2016)