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Ever since I wrote my short story, “Tourist”, I have had an obsession with Paris. The city symbolizes romance in a way that is the worst kinds of cliche, but that’s what I love about it. The hype is overdone. I have no desire to actually visit the city. Yet, I was once a little girl with big dreams, and I still like to keep in touch with her. When...
Since I’ve started complaining about my self-proclaimed “writer crisis”, I can freely admit that I haven’t done much to get out of my funk. I go through patches where I think that I could easily just stop writing. I’ve published a book. Readers have emailed me to tell me that my writing helped them feel less like garbage. Book blogs write nice reviews. I’ve achieved what I’ve wanted but I...