We meet once a week with manuscripts in hand,
With visions of bestsellers so poorly planned.
We sip on our coffee. We chatter and scheme,
But writing? That part stays mostly a dream.
“I’ve outlined my outline,” young Sarah declares,
While Joe nods approvingly, pulling up chairs.
“I’m naming my hero.” says proud Mr. Lee,
But he’s been writing page one since 2023.
Always confident, our leader is looking bright,
“No need for discussion now. Let’s just write.”
Two hours later, she again checks her phone,
And we all agree. We should all head home.
Our folders are stuffed with beginnings galore,
But middles and endings? We’re just keeping score.
We keep editing with hope a final draft might exist.
Old manuscripts are saved for later, and never missed.
We’ve mastered writing procrastination’s fine art.
We’ve built every plot but never reach the ending part.
Chapters remain unfinished, each hero half-made.
But we’re champions of dreams that haven’t decayed.
So lift up your manuscripts and give a loud cheer,
To the writers who’ve worked for year after year.
We may never publish or print what we’ve spun—
But oh, what a wonderful start. We’ve just begun!
