1. What am I doing?

    My head feels like it's on fire right now. I've been working on this novel since March, it's mere pages away from being finished. I am an accomplished student, I write very well, I've written since I was nine years old, I've had access to an almost unending library of wonderful books, and yet - and yet. It remains so juvenile. I write, I love it; I look back and I hate it. It's like an uncooked egg. My characters are capable of great things; they are doing great things, discovering...
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