I have told this before. And I think I will repeat it until the end of my life, until it stops haunting me. In grad school, I lost my writing. I felt it drain out of me one idea after another.

I wrote a story, something about police and cats, and I couldn’t feel the next one there behind it. It wasn’t writer’s block. I wasn’t stuck. I had loads of words floating around in my tank. But I had no more stories at all. For four years, I stopped being a writer.

I’m good at the butt-in-chair thing. Always have been.… Read the rest