you ever just sit or lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling and wonder if you’ve ever eaten meat from an animal that was the offspring of another animal you’ve eaten? I’ve once read an article about the food industry’s secret glue that can paste together the meat belonging from many animals and makes it look like it’s from a single one thus you could eat beef thinking that it’s from a cow when in fact it’s from nine different cows of nine different ages and breeds a friend of mine declared herself vegan after she sliced a steak and found gray slimy puss oozing from it. The blade struck a cyst “I’m a vegan forever from now on!” she screamed And I said, “I’m a writer.” “What?” she said. “What’s that have to do with what I said?” “I’m a writer,” I repeated. “Meaning I have to compare everything to writing. Your discovery of the cyst inside the steak is akin to reading a really nice book only to reach the most disturbing scene you’ve stumbled upon in a long while and be taken by surprise and change your opinion about the whole book. There are some books like that. Doesn’t mean they all are though. And unlike a meat eater, I like to believe a writer can tell the difference between a book written by a single person and a collaborative project.” “Boy, you’re scaring me.” “Can I have that steak?” I said. “Wah? You… don’t mean to eat it, do you?” “Nah, my cousin has a dog who surely won’t mind the cyst.” she gave me the steak and she didn’t ask (I only wanted her to), but the writer equivalent of this situation would be to recognize when a story fails real bad and instead of stubbornly striving to submit to agents you just give it away for free, publish online, maybe even under a pseudonym Anyway the dog loved that steak.