I must not write. Writing is the mind-killer. Writing is the little death that brings published obliteration. I will face my writing, I will permit it to pass over me and through me, and when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where writing has gone there will be nothing. Only my word count will remain.
[It's 0, BTW. For 03, 04, and 05 November. Yes, the pace has quickened. In case anyone was wondering.]