Every teller of tall tales gets here.

Each and every scribbler of stories reaches this point.

Are we kidding ourselves?

Do these scribbles really have value?

Would anyone really pay good money to read your writing?

Introspection is a lonely place.

I feel my stories have merit, I am adamant that they are ripe for commercial exploitation.

If you print them, you WILL make money.

And therein lies the crux.

Nobody else believes me.

My path is lonely, is one of solitude, the loneliness of a long-distance runner…

To stop, or to make one last push?

We are at that tipping point.

To go on, or to stop.

The will once so resolute, this we are slowly losing.

Stay safe – remain sane!