Have you ever gone bushwalking up a mountain and you think you're at the top only to find another heartbreaking hill to go...and another... and another... your legs are burning, your heart rate is horrendous and you're sure the view isn't going to be worth it?
I'm at one of those heartbreaking hills with writing... I hope it's not the first and I'd love it to be the last but I think there's probably more hills to go. Everything's aching - fingers, back, brain. I'm sure the view won't be worth it...
yet I know they always have been (oh, except Kosciuszko that time when we got to the top and the fog had set in so thick).
Don't think of those one-offs. Just keep hoping for a great view (publication).
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