Kevin's Watch

No poems in Foul anymore. Well, maybe, but they're no longer on tap, like they used to be. A parched wasteland, rather than a verdant . . . something. Sigh! Oh well, I don't think it's writer's block. I can still write--that much is clear--but what I write pleases me less and less. Perhaps I have subconsciously raised my standards. I dunno.

Writing is emotion. Find something that hurts. A lot.

Methinks the Evil Adept should try a long bubble bath. then wear purple and green toesocks. Then say the words, "wiggldy wocket, stuck in my pocket, blarggh." Works every time.