I know this black hole.

I think what drives me the most are desire and fear. I think: I want to write this book. I can see it in my mind, it’s perfectly formed, the structure is sound. It’s like an apple, it’s like something in nature. Why can’t I get it to look the same on the page? Why? So bewilderment is part of it too, I guess. And stubbornness.

And also I’m afraid of what will happen to me if I don’t write the book. Some days I feel like my life is completely empty. Writing is the only thing that seems to bring meaning to my life and without it I would be facing this black hole. A more cynical interpretation might be to say that it’s not that writing is meaningful, just distracting, but to me that doesn’t usually feel true. — Deb Olin Unferth via Jacket Copy

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