No more f#^*ing around

This mug is from Dear Sugar, one of the greatest advice columns in all of history and apparently a cultural phenomenon. I’m always the last to know, and I will therefore never be the cool kid. But thanks to the cool kids I at least happen to know, this book came into my life, written by the author of Dear Sugar, Cheryl Strayed, and thanks to those same cool kids, I was lucky enough to go to her reading when she was in Brooklyn a couple of weeks ago, where one of those cool people, bless her sweet heart, knew that this was the message I need to see every hour of the day.

Because, friends, I have a novel in its fifth draft gnawing at me from the inside out. A novel I’ve been avoiding because I know that what I really need to do is cut off most of the world and lock myself in a room until it’s done, and I can’t precisely say what I need to do when I get into that room, except write until it’s finished, which is a pretty vague and terrifying set of directions.

At least I’ll have something to drink my coffee (and wine) out of while I figure it out.


2 thoughts on “No more f#^*ing around

  1. Enjoy the process, less self-torture, more pleasure in the journey. Is that way the book was trying to tell us? I just finished it and that is what I got.

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