How do parents write?

Ever?

I tried to do my usual hour or two at the laundromat this week, and found myself with a nine-year-old boy attached to my aura. He was very nice, very interested in every single thing I was doing, even polite–in a nine-year-old boy sort of way.

And I couldn’t concentrate enough to write a thing.

I have a whole new respect for parents who manage to have writing careers.

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