Tag Archives: writinglife

It’s just not working. It’s been a good year, we had a good run, when I fit into you, and you fit into me, and we did beautiful things together. Once I could just sit with you for hours, reading, dreaming, and, yes, writing. You used to support me, comfort me, but gone are thoseContinue reading “Goldilocks Syndrome: An Elegy for the One True Chair”