I guess shortcuts come with strings attached. You might sell your soul to the devil without realizing it and miss out on all the trying and failing, clawing yourself out of the mud that’s supposed to make you who you are.
This is a post about writing when you’re sick. Doing anything when you’re sick, really.
It’s something I’ve wanted to open up about for a long time. And it’s also one of the reasons I don’t blog as often as I used to.
(Related note: I’m in the process of moving some of those old blogs over to this new site, but that will be a slow process, as you’ll soon find out.)
I have a chronic illness that…
I guess shortcuts come with strings attached. You might sell your soul to the devil without realizing it and miss out on all the trying and failing, clawing yourself out of the mud that’s supposed to make you who you are.