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Lately, I’ve been finding it hard to write.

Whenever I sit down to start, I find myself overwhelmed by a certainty that there’s no point. That nobody cares, and it would be terrible anyway.

I try to fight that feeling, but it’s like trying to wear down a mountain with a single scrap of sandpaper. The dust makes it look like progress is made, but after a step back the difference is invisible.

But today would have been Terry Pratchett’s birthday. So, in his memory, I shall try to Be More Terry.

I shall put on my black hat, and go back to the mountain.