You've probably figured it out by now, let's make it official: I'm just not that into you this year.
We've had a long, storied relationship. Most of the time it didn't work out the way we would have liked, but it was still very much worth the effort. Over the years, you've given me plenty to think about. Even more important, you've given me specific and sometimes even attainable goals that (bonus!) made sense to the people around me.
But these days? I'm just not feeling it. I'm sure you've noticed I've been hanging out with short fiction lately. Short fiction's always been a very good friend, and lately our Blackjack Taco lunches have been exactly what I need to get through the day. Flash fiction usually shows up in time for a Choco Taco dessert, and that's been good too. I have a big fat notebook, and this November I'm going to fill it up completely with lots of different stuff. I'm excited, and I know I wouldn't try this without having met you first.
I'm sorry you overheard me say that you are getting a little too Claire's Boutique for my taste. Sometimes I say cruel things when I don't want to think about my own issues. I do that fairly often, actually. To be honest, you haven't changed much at all. And being less Claire's Boutique probably does this uncute writer no favors, but as every reality star who has to deny a suitor their token says? That's how it is sometimes.
You don't need me. You do just fine with writers who are completely faithful to you. I'd wish you a fantastic November, but you will have one anyway.