I think this because, of course, I just read a book about writing, sort of. It’s called What It Is. It’s partly a comic book (graphic novel, if you must, but really, they’re just long comic books) and partly a disaster in a collage factory and partly brilliant insight. I can’t say I exactly like it, although I think it’s going to be one of my favorite books. It is worming its way into my brain and challenging my assumptions and generally messing with my head in a good way. My daily pages of journaling have gone better in the two days since I finished reading and that all by itself is worth the price of admission. I have been distracted from my usual depressed navel-gazing! All hail!
Now I just need to read a book about, say, being a kind human being every couple of days, and one about being a considerate parent, and one about having a clean house, and and and
I knew there was a flaw somewhere. Maybe there’s a book about that, too.