Literature
Ghost Writer
There was once a writer who found that he, after a few million words over the course of twenty odd years, could no longer write. Sure, he could write. If he sat down and smoked a pack of cigarettes and twiddled with whatever forced garbage he made himself lay upon the page, but at the need of the night—highlight and delete. Would he like to save the changes he made to Untitled Document? No, he would not.
He didn't think it would bother him as bad as it did. And it hadn't bothered him, at first. He figured that it would be back—it liked to take a vacation every now and then. But it had been nearly a year, and he was still sitting wit
