Last January L and I attended Lynda Barry's writing workshop: Writing the Unthinkable. Although the intervening months saw neither the completion of a novel, nor the publication of many of the shorter pieces that decorate my desktop like so much spent confetti, Lynda did help me to be curious and brave in new ways with my writing. She also looked me in the eyes and said "good." She was talking about my writing, I think, and her comment felt like the kind of embrace during which you have enough time to breathe in AND breath out.
Check out her upcoming Chicago workshop.
Good.
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