BARF BARF BARF
I hope I'm totally wrong about this, but I have very little hope. Curse you, Lynnions!
On a positive note, I have library books. Lois Lowry's Messenger, Wendy Mass's A Mango Shaped Space (thank you for the rec, variella) and Jeffrey Moore's The Memory Artists. The latter two books are about synaesthesia, so I can tear my hair out over things like Wendy's heroine being named Mia and mine being named Thea, and sink into bleak despair at the realization that everything I wanted to say in Touching Indigo has been said before and better by somebody else.
Kind of like I'm currently tearing my hair out over the fact that I cannot write a 250-word hook for Knife that doesn't confuse the heck out of people who haven't read it and give them a totally wrong impression about the story.
I can't not write, but sometimes I think I ought to take up an easier and more soothing occupation, like carving the 23rd Psalm in medieval script onto individual grains of rice.