There is a mysterious, magical element many writers have yet to discover in this world. Those who have wonder why it took so long to find. Those who haven’t have no idea what I’m talking about. Those who haven’t should read on.
This story is sad, unexaggerated and eye-opening. It has taken me several years since, and a lot of journaling and self-reflection, to feel comfortable opening up about it. I don’t have a lot of secrets. The ones I keep, I keep for good reasons. I write fiction and magazine articles because I don’t like talking, or writing, about myself much. Cover letters, you can therefore guess, are an absolute nightmare.
It’s different when a story, one of the autobiographical variety, has the potential to help someone else. So allow me to introduce you to the life I used to live, a life full of ink and color and straight, orderly lines. A life without rest; without reason; without even an inch of white space.
Continue reading “How White Space Makes You a Better Writer”
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