I’m not going to tell you every time there’s a review for Vessel, but there have been a few really exciting things I wanted to share with you.
Something has become clear to me: I find that I am less and less interested in watching white-centered stories, particularly white Americans.
I’m old enough that I remember the glory days of the mixtape, the joys and frustrations of making one–running out of room on the tape! trying to catch the right song off the radio!–and the delight in receiving one…
Even if you’ve known me for years, I’ve been successfully deceiving you this entire time.
I debated talking about this, but I’m generally very open about it, and I feel strongly about being open about it. So… hi. I’m your friendly neighborhood writer, and I’m mentally ill.
The summer before 7th grade, I wrote my very first story, longhand in one of those black and white composition notebooks. I was eleven years old, and I was writing fanfic before I knew what fanfic was.
For a lot of people, knowing that Endgame will likely fix things weakened the impact of the ending of Infinity War. I was not one of them.
If writing a first draft is an exercise in silencing your inner critic, editing your first draft is an exercise in silencing your ego.