This is one of my favourite posts. Ever.
I’m going to say this once, very quietly, “I am a writer.” I have been for years. I’ve declared it on Twitter and in the very act of creating this website. This represents growth for me. In the past, just saying those four little words was the thing of dreams. Yet, at the same time, it was a statement that once OUT THERE would have kept me far from sleep at night, twisting in the throes of mortification without release. For months.
I have spent literally decades of my life sitting alone in a room obsessing over characters and plots and dialogue that hardly anyone else ever gets to see. I re-write sentences seventeen times. I torture myself with endings so that they don’t spoil the effect of the entire genius-rest of the book. I grind myself into a pit (and not, sadly, a Brad Pitt) of near-despair over something…
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