For some reason I have this nagging sense of failure or of pending failure.
Of course, it likely has to do with the July 1st release of Sketches from the Spanish Mustang. This isn’t my first rodeo (as my current boss likes to say), but regardless of the number of books you release, feelings come and go like waves. They crash against the rocky shore then retreat to points in the ocean you can only see when you squint. If you turn your back, however, the waves return.
Fear.
Depression.
Alienation.
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