Self destruction can take many forms: men, martinis, one too many lines of coke, drug-fueled nights staying up until dawn. My favorite form of masochism is browsing LinkedIn. Though going on the professional platform almost always makes me feel bad, I do it time and time again. And what happens? I end up in a … Continue reading
Nothing is more toxic to the soul than comparison. Glancing at the biographies of established writers, I feel myself infected with that familiar poison: by the time she was my age, Jodi Picoult was already married with children, had published several books, worked as a creative writing instructor at a private academy and English teacher … Continue reading
The Blank-Faced Confidante 