I write by osmosis. I write by divine decree. I write by heart, the heart shaking itself off like a dog that has nearly drowned in light. Or the heart dimly lit, sputtering and darkening, the heart shattering and held together again with duct tape and kindergarten paste. I write by memory, which is a beautiful liar. I write lies. I write in an alternate universe, in bed, hating the world and the word "I." I write at a desk and feel virtuous. I write without a thought in my head. I write groveling for love and attention, and indifferent to everyone and everything.
"How I Write,"
Booth: Vol. 5
, Article 1.
Retrieved from: https://digitalcommons.butler.edu/booth/vol5/iss7/1