A Brief Poem About a Writer Who Doesn't Write—Revisited
They say—they being creative writing professors, esteemed novelists, and hacks with wordy Instagram posts alike—that writers write. Writers who get their shit out there—not all of it, but enough of it—are the real writers. True warriors of the pen and keys.
A Brief Poem About a Writer Who Doesn't Write
They say—they being creative writing professors, esteemed novelists, and hacks with wordy Instagram posts alike—that writers write. Writers who get their shit out there—not all of it, but enough of it—are the real writers. True warriors of the pen and keys.
Today’s Writer’s Life—Heroin Would be Better
I stared at the computer keyboard for a while. I reviewed some notes. I sharpened a few pencils. I drank half a pot of coffee. I chewed seven pieces of cinnamon Trident gum. I read half a chapter in one of the eight books I’m actively reading. I made some administrative phone calls. I went on a refreshing walk with the dog.
Christmas is a time for giving, being with family and friends, and hating every other asshole out there in the shops and on the roads also trying to spread joy and share in the Christmas spirit. Similarly, Hanukkah is a time for Jewish people to desperately try to feel relevant during Christmastime.