Typewriters, laptops, and notebooks all have two things in common: they serve writers and they can smell fear. You’re trucking along, writing like a pro, and then chapter six rolls around and suddenly you have the urge to clean the apartment from top to bottom. In fact, every little task you’ve been ignoring suddenly seems like a great idea because for some reason, you’ve lost the ability to put one word after another. This quasi-productivity is accompanied by feelings of inadequacy, self-doubt, and internal stagnation. You’re afraid to even say those fated words, “writer’s block,” because they feel like a life sentence. Honey, have a tissue. We’ve all been there.…
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A Single Writer’s Manifesto
I’m terribly intimidated to know that this is the first of my work some of you will ever read. This moment feels like public speaking, right at the hush when everyone waits for you to speak but all you can think about is whether the mic is going to squeal with feedback. And then you hazily ask yourself, “Why am I up here?” The Long Version: I guess I’m here, writing this to you, because I want to give some explanation of what you can expect from me and, quite simply, why I do what I do. I used to know the answer to that, but it gets less clear…