Last week, Sloane Crosley made me feel as though I could maybe write.
This week, Gabriel Garcia Marquez makes me certain I cannot.
Anyone have any suggestions for good writers who are enjoyable to read without making writing seem as though it should be an Olympic sport? I need to get my writinglegs back. I need someone like Billy Collins. Or Ted Kooser. Or David Sedaris. Or Sarah Vowell. I need a writer of the people. Not a Nobel Prize winner.
Anyway, I lied the other day; I didn’t obviously write more yesterday. Forgive me. I am miserable.
This week is shot. I’ll try again next.