With my mind clouded in frustration, I didn't realise that I was being far too critical of myself.
I looked at the first draft and instantly wanted to tear it up into a million shreds. Ripping it off the spine of the book I tried a second attempt. Then another. And another. They all looked hideous. The stack of paper all bearing the same quote emblazoned on it in blank ink grew along with the irritation brewing inside of me. Soon enough I had expended every last piece of paper. None of my attempts did it for me.