Thanks to years of consuming so many stories, a reader’s interior world is truly amazing—a sanctuary they can escape to whenever they please, which is a serious advantage when life gets tricky and the real world isn’t such a great place to be.
The North Pole’s biggest little strip club enthusiast.
When Caden’s teacher asked me to come in for a parent-teacher conference, I figured she was going to sing his praises as a self-reliant, good kid. But instead, she just gestured for me to sit in a tiny, plastic chair and proceeded to lay a spiral notebook on the desk in front of me, without saying a word.
“It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.”
As we navigate our own paths, taking in new information and learning harsh truths, it’s easy to find yourself in a mental rut, and it’s no secret that learning to be a grown up can be rough.
The bad poetry got me somewhere. It taught me: how not to write.
Every morning I wake up tense, my fists clenched and my arms pressed into my chest. It’s as if I’m braced for impact, like I’m about to crash-land into the day.
The difference between now and then is that reading has presented itself in a different shade. Now, as I read whatever novel I have in hand, I no longer see myself in the story’s universe.
Remember being a kid and having that amazing imagination?
It’s such a simple formula: do one hard thing a day.