Is there an expectation for authors to comply?

To conform to an industry full of closeted boxes.

Who feigns normality to preserve their purpose?

I am a writer.

I am extraordinary.

I have associates, but my only friend is my wife.

My cocker spaniel Buddy is my ardent muse.

I wake up early for a bit of me-time?

I write each day – it is my consummate joy.

I come across as distant and reticent?

I read the subtlest of body language.

I am found in social corners where I examine people and their behaviours.

I am idiosyncratic because I follow my gut.

I never know when it is my turn to talk on the telephone.

I influence and manoeuvre to realize my dreams.

I hate red tape and stupidity.

Will I be ostracised because I don’t fit in?

Labelled as unpublishable?

Writers are exceptions to the enforced model.

For normal does not exist.

We go all out for the perfection in our mind’s eye.

I am an extraordinary author and for that,

I make no apology.

Merry Christmas

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