Over the summer, I wandered into my local library, though I suppose “wander” is a misnomer. I planned the trip, a literal five minute drive from my house, with the intention of wandering the stacks. Familiarity with the Dewy Decimal System led me to the 800 aisle in the non-fiction section where I perused books about writing.
Despite my best efforts, I was in a slump. A miserable, grasping, “dumb words about nothing” spiral that made me question my entire identity. I needed a fresh perspective. A new approach. To be jarred out of monkey mind and get back to the business of prose. Several Short Sentences About Writing was not the key to Endless Well-Crafted Creativity I sought in the stacks that day. It changed my life all the same.