How many hours have I stared at a blank page while in my mind's eye I saw the characters come to life? Why will it not transfer from my head into writing? Why must I live with these real phantoms that refuse to be seen by anyone other than I? I want not for stories. My head is full of them. What I need is the ability to let them live out their lives on the page, for others to witness, to enjoy.
I think too much.
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