3 thoughts on “Jeffrey Somers: A Day in the Life of a Writer.

  1. This looks like my day, without Jack. He’s only my friend on weekends. Okay, that’s not true. I’m a Southern Comfort gal or Wild Turkey. My writing is weird enough without adding alcohol to it. I had a tooth pulled and had vicodin. I wrote. My friends about wet their pants from the funniness.
    I wasn’t trying to be funny. At least sober-me wasn’t. Sober-me was trying to be DEEP.
    Other than that, yeah… alone, lots of staring into space. Occasionally harrassing the cat. Granted, while I stare at nothing I’m PLOTTING, but it looks like I’m doing nothing.

  2. Well, it’s been a day and no one has offered to actually help me. EIther I am unlovable, or the entertainment factor of my sad decline is considered a valuable international resources which much be preserved and shared.

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