I am reading Dead End In Norvelt by Jack Gantos right now.
It makes me wish I was a better writer.
It makes me wish I could write all day.
It makes me laugh out loud.
I have written every day but not very much every day.
Also, I bought a gigantic box of peaches that were cheaper because they were seconds and you know what? They’re delicious. They’re juicy. They’re probably better than those snotty perfect peaches sitting all fancy and smug in their white boxes. Maybe your seconds manuscripts deserve a chance? Maybe they’re better than you think?