I’m working on this story for my nonfiction workshop. It’s going and I like it but I’m also preparing for it to be ripped to shreds by my peers who are reading it this week for critique. I enjoyed hand writing it. I did this because it’s about loving everything I touch, and I love computers and typing but I really, really love my pen and paper more than anything in the world.
I wish I could sell the story as fiction.
If you know me and don’t want to know too much about my sex life, then maybe read something else I’ve written. Or read a poem by Billy Collins instead.