Oh Yeah...
The novel. All those research materials I bought for the novel, books on cultures and society and history and religions, folk tales and ghost tales. I can't quite bear to read them now. I suppose I could still write the novel, someday. I've just lost the reason I was planning to, is all. Sort of "creating art and collaborating with the absent". That was the idea, anyway. To show it, in a way that couldn't be faked. But I don't think the point of that would ever get through, not after what I've read.
I guess it's less pressure, in some sense.
But I do hate giving up. However, I'm finite. Probably much to her relief, it would seem.