They pushed me over the ledge into a free fall where I found my voice.
My teachers would cross off whole sentences, combine sentences, rearrange paragraphs; it was like butchery.
Instead of managing the deluge of emails and envelopes with the grace of the professional, I was crushed by them.
Some people believe there’s a secret formula to writing a bestseller—or that anyone can do it.
When I need to dig deeper, get grittier, I imagine that smoke-filled room, the overflowing ashtray, the Olivetti.
