There once was a girl who could write. She could write very well, and given the time, might have even written a book.
Sadly, this girl also had bills to pay, student loans to fulfill and a growing family. Her decision earlier in the year to quit a job that, while somewhat maddening and stagnant, provided a steady paycheck was keeping her on her toes. There was very little time for creative fun and the generation of magic on paper.
Known to society as a “freelance writer”, this girl balanced herself between moments of excitement and inspiration and bouts of panic over her insistence to buy organic apples. If only she could grow content and fresh produce.
