I had sort of sullenly decided I wasn’t going to write today, and that I was going to read a book instead. So I went and looked at the (close to 100) books on the TBR shelf. And then went and wrote 1500 words on my own damned book, because I couldn’t commit to somebody else’s. It’s not you, baby, it’s me. I love you, but this relationship just isn’t going to work. I wanted to be with you, but I can see now that it’s a mistake. I’m sorry,…