Years ago, while living a life that is very different than the life I’m living now, a writer whose opinion meant a lot to me (both then and now) told me that a story of mine I had asked him to read was, well, let’s just say I’ve heard nicer things said about ax murderers.
I was so agitated by this writer’s criticism that I stormed to my writing desk, saying You want something interesting? I’ll give you something interesting, and then fired off the first part of a novel that would shape my life for a long time.
The arts – whether writing or making or playing an instrument – have a power all their own, and in a letter I shared with friends and family, just a few nights before finally finishing this novel born from anger, and then eventually nurtured by love, I did my best to describe the greatest gift that art has given me.
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