Author Michael Duda
I had shoveled a few weeks ago. Snow is falling. It’s sort of beautiful, it blankets a city, it hides what we may not like. It’s early Spring. The snow has a price: I’ll shovel. I want to write.
An ill-tempered writer who’s learning the craft the hard way: Hammering away at the keyboard and occasionally admitting when he’s wrong.
He writes because his cat hates him.
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