Submitted by Fran on Tue, 2009-03-10 20:53.
Stick me on a cocktail stick and leave me out for the birds. I’m running on empty. One more second in that office and I’ll have given them 40 million. I’m done. Time to work in a local bookshop, write my words and see the spring in from a park bench. I want to sleep well and have time to think. I want to have a lunch break that isn’t five minutes in the ladies’ loo with my head hung upside down between my legs. But there’s a credit crunch on and I should be grateful they stretched to a wizzy hand-drier. Publishers are downsizing, literary fiction pays pants anyway and I’m all out of beans.
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