Welcome to Failing Better

 Writing is how we heal, and reading is how we witness our collective humanity. The act of writing is not always where I am happiest, where the hours disappear, where I know that I am meant to be. I write (navel gaze, self-absorbed, memoiristic words and phrases) because I can’t not. Sure, there are days when I’m deep in my writing and look at the clock with disbelief that an hour has passed when it felt like five minutes. And there are even days when I sit back and look at my work (after countless revisions) and think, Hey, maybe that doesn’t completely suck. That sweet feeling lasts about eight seconds, so then I begin again.