"What are you working on?" It's the most well-meaning and terrifying question an author is asked. For me, the process of writing is more like feeling my way through a darkened room than it is marching forward with clarity of intent. So, when trying to respond, I fumble around, sounding more directionless as I go: Oh, it's about brothers who live, um, in the desert, or, Oh, you know, just some stories about people and, you know, uh, relationships. I watch as expressions turn from genuine enthusia...
"What are you working on?" It's the most well-meaning and terrifying question an author is asked. For me, the process of writing is more like feeling my way through a darkened room than it is marching forward with clarity of intent. So, when trying to respond, I fumble around, sounding more directionless as I go: Oh, it's about brothers who live, um, in the desert, or, Oh, you know, just some stories about people and, you know, uh, relationships. I watch as expressions turn from genuine enthusia...
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