After four books
You’d think I would know
How to write fast
And not super-slow

The premise is there
At the edge of my brain
But writing it down
Can drive me insane

A sentence a day
Sometimes that’s it!
The words just don’t fly
It causes me fits

A perfectionist I am,
A stickler for detail
I try for expedience
But often I fail

So if you expect
My new book next week
I confess to you here
Your prospects are bleak

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