Why do we conflate creating with suffering? The word “artist” conjures images of manic-depressive poets who drink themselves to death and mad painters who chop off their own ears. Our conception of writers is especially bleak. In our minds, the writer is a tormented soul who spends his days hunched over his desk, forehead wrinkled … Continue reading
I imagine my inner critic as a stern school teacher who wears prim cardigans and too-serious loafers. In her crisp button down shirt and impeccably coiffed hair, she is the paragon of perfectionism. Our inner school teacher is convinced there’s a right way to do things: introductions should have a hook followed by background and … Continue reading
How many of us associate big, monumental birthdays with nervous breakdowns? In her exquistely raw advice column Dear Sugar, Cheryl Strayed attempts to console 26 year old Elissa Bassist, a disheartened aspiring writer who wonders how she can “reach the page” when she can barely “lift her face off the bed.” Like many of us, … Continue reading
It’s always hard to get back to the page, especially when our writing routine has been periodically interrupted over a long stretch of time. If writing is a way of reconnecting with oneself, not having anything to say feels like a terrible kind of muteness. Like a traveler eager to book a hotel room, … Continue reading
The blank page. As a writer, I know that when I first confront the blank page the sheer possibilities of what I could write-the seemingly infinite number of ways in which I can combine all the glorious words of the English language-are, at times, overwhelming. Staring at my Macbook Air, I understand how Michelangelo felt … Continue reading
The Blank-Faced Confidante 