He stood out on the balcony. The brisk evening air gently caresses his skin with ice-cold fingers. Why was he standing here? What was happening? He didn’t know if he could quite comprehend what was flashing through his mind as he stood there. A tear runs down his cheek. This …
There are few things I hate about writing. I don’t necessarily like deadlines as they can hinder organic growth of the story. I hate writer’s block… but really, what writer likes writer’s block. But honestly, if there’s one thing that I dislike more, its editing. Yeah, editing… Sitting and going …
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