There’s one writing-related question I hate more than any other.
“What kind of writing do you do?”
Or: “What do you write about?”
It’s questions like this that make me feel like the whole world is crashing down around me.
I don’t just write about one thing. How could I?
And then I start to tumble into an existential crisis. I wonder if normal people only write about one thing, and the fact that I do 100 things makes me abnormal, and not in a good way.
Recently I’ve really tried to scale down my Things. Except I finished that process, oh so conveniently, just in time for National Novel Writing Month.
I survived the first day, as I always do … but barely.
You see, I haven’t written fiction — seriously — in about a year.
Those first 2,000 words were … rough.
But they weren’t all for nothing…
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