So, I get it, I’m a pretty prolific writer. It’s a gift. Seriously, I’m not making this up. My roomie is always like “Yo! What’s all that Madea typin’ you be doin’?” and I’m like “Don’t mess with ma flow son!”
I usually end up writing anywhere between 4,000 (on a slow day) to 8,000 words per day. The problem is dissatisfaction. I read through what I’ve written and think I won’t get that coveted review from Sista Souljah or Karen Ford, or Nnedi Okorafor, or Susan Kiguli.
So I’m off to go get it done instead of rifling through my tumblr dashboard. Chapter Three! Let’s go!