I didn’t work on my new novel during the first six months of the year, but I was hyper-aware of it glowering in my Dropbox waiting to show me what a horrible writer I was. I did almost anything else, a short story, a book review, ran an advertising campaign, wrote copy for a website, pondered A.I., cleaned my house badly and mowed the property over and over until the temperature cooled and the grass ceased to grow. It was classic avoidance. I didn’t want to open it and see the results of that rampant, uncontrolled first draft.  Hemingway, Lamott and King advise getting comfortableRead More →