Someone once asked me what it was like to be a writer. In short, I had said “chaos”. But truly, it is a perilous ravine of self-doubt. A cavern of beautifully profound worlds. A sea of characters that had become family. To be a writer means balancing the crippling self-deprecation with lyrical prose and witty dialogue. It means turning pain into art. And even on the days when every word I write seems to be working against me, I would never choose to be anything else.