waiting while hungover
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
Sydney, 2001.03.24
Hung around the apartment all day waiting for word from Dad. We were hungover as hell anyway.
twenty-seven years and one million words
Hung around the apartment all day waiting for word from Dad. We were hungover as hell anyway.
Remove everything that has no relevance to the story. If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there.
—Anton Chekhov