Quickie: A Question For Writers
by P. Braithwaite
I think it’s hard to love a writer. Not because we’re insufferable, isolated moody folks, but because writing is everything.
I’m writing this memoir and I find myself stretched to the edge of my sanity — who am I? What story am I telling? Am I doing my best? In the midst of writer’s block, I don’t know.
What I am learning, however, is that I will perish in service to the writing. I will sacrifice anything for it. I imagine that makes me very hard to love.
Would you ever let your lover come b/w you and your work?