"I'm a bit topsy turvy this morning Quigley. You'll have to excuse me if I'm a bit punchy. You see the power went out last night while I was in the middle of composing a sonnet."
"Indeed, I must have slept through it. What ever on earth did you do?"
"I'll tell you what I did, I lit a candle and picked up a pen-the old fashioned way. Oh I must say it was delightful-I feel quite invigorated-although it's true I didn't exactly get around to finishing my poem. And it's also true that I have yet to publish even one of them. While I feel inspired that pile of rejection letters sitting in my desk drawer plagues me like a swarm of locusts."
"For goodness sakes Mews, take them out of there this instant and toss them in the trash. Honestly, how you punish yourself so."
"Perhaps you're right Quigley. Perhaps it's time to do a bit of a clearing house."
"Good man! There's no time like the present Mews!"