THE WORK, THE LIFE, and THE MONEY

Yesterday I asked whether “does it make money” should be a factor in determining a creative work’s success.

This, by the way, is one of the oldest questions in the book, we were debating it back in grad school, but in grad school we were also all on food stamps because that was literally part of the orientation process.*

Since then, I have had varying levels of income — specifically, two periods of earning at or above the median income in the United States, separated by a few years during which I earned significantly below the median income — and I’ve become less interested in the philosophical question of whether creative work should make money then the practical question of how to earn money from your creative work.

Here’s what I have come to believe:

  1. The big creative work you want to do with your life — aka THE WORK — should include a money-making component.
  2. THE WORK might not earn enough money to be your sole source of income. (If it is, congratulations!)
  3. You will probably need to do additional types of work to fund THE LIFE you want to live. If possible, choose work that complements and/or supports both THE LIFE you want and THE WORK you want to do.
  4. A successful piece of WORK should, at minimum, earn back the cost of producing the WORK. This cost may or may not include your time.

None of these foundational beliefs address the question of how to earn money from your creative work — we’ll get to that, probably next week — but, at least for me, they set up a framework through which I can structure THE WORK, THE LIFE, and THE MONEY while simultaneously evaluating the success of all of the above.

This brings me to Grant Sabatier’s new book Financial Freedom: A Proven Path to All the Money You Will Ever Need.

Sabatier wrote this book as a sort of unofficial sequel to my very favorite personal-finance book ever, Vicki Robin and Joe Dominguez’s Your Money or Your Life: 9 Steps to Transforming Your Relationship with Money and Achieving Financial Independence. (Vicki Robin wrote the foreword to Financial Freedom, making it an official unofficial sequel?)

Your Money or Your Life teaches you how to interact with money; how to calculate your true hourly wage and identify jobs that give you the most value for your time, how to avoid blowing your cash on impulse buys and poorly-thought-out purchases, and how to save and invest for the future.

Financial Freedom teaches you how to earn more.

Financial Freedom also provides an updated guide to the whole saving-and-investing thing. The original edition of Your Money or Your Life was all about savings account interest and U.S. Treasury Bonds (both of which are no longer performing at a rate that can lead a person towards long-term financial security), and Financial Freedom focuses on newer strategies such as index funds and Roth IRA conversions.

If that’s not where you are in your financial journey, you can skip that part.

But I would argue that every creative person should read both Your Money and Your Life and Financial Freedom, if only because these books will cement the connection between THE WORK, THE LIFE, and THE MONEY.

If your job is not giving you enough time and/or money to live THE LIFE and do THE WORK, these books will help you find and/or create a better job, preferably one with a higher true hourly wage.**

If THE LIFE you want to live does not match the life you are currently living, and especially if you are spending extra money because you are dissatisfied with your life, these books will show you how to shift your habits and your spending to get you closer to THE LIFE you want.***

If you want to go all Marie Kondo on your everyday expenses and ask yourself “do I really want to spend $780 every year maintaining my pixie cut or do I want to invest that money and turn it into three months of financial freedom,” well… guess what, I started growing my hair out.

(Financial freedom, by the way, translates to “the amount of time you can live comfortably without earning another dollar.” You can stack up your months of financial freedom to provide security for the future, or cash them in for a big purchase such as a house or a sabbatical or an indie-published book.)

Most importantly, if you want to figure out how to turn THE WORK into THE MONEY-MAKING WORK, Financial Freedom has several excellent suggestions.

That’s all for today. Next week we’ll continue discussing how to make money on your creative work, so… see y’all on Monday. ❤️

*The orientation, which was student-led, consisted of two components: don’t sleep with the undergrads and here’s how to get on food stamps.

**I know jobs don’t grow on job trees and getting a new job is not always easy. But if you are going to do the work of job-hunting, it’s worth knowing what kind of job you’re hunting for.

***I can hear you saying “I don’t earn enough money to change any of my spending habits,” which, believe me, I’ve been there. I first read Your Money or Your Life in 2004, when I was making $9 an hour working as a telemarketer. (That’s the equivalent of $12 an hour today, if you were curious.) I could make very few changes to my spending, but I started doing things like making peanut-butter-and-raisin sandwiches because a tub of raisins was cheaper than a thing of jam, and taking the bus during off-peak hours because it was less expensive, and finding a job that paid $13 an hour, and within nine months I had saved $500, which was NOT A LOT, but also proved that the system worked.

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On Play, Performance, and Profit

I told you some of these would be about money, since I’ve been writing about personal finance for the past seven years — and, arguably, I wouldn’t be making the money I do on my creative work without the personal finance background. (Or, at least, not as much money.)

About a month ago, I got an advance reader’s copy of Grant Sabatier’s Financial Freedom: A Proven Path to All the Money You Will Ever Need, which released to the public this Tuesday. I reviewed it on The Billfold this week from a personal finance perspective; I’m going to review it on this-here blog tomorrow from a creative perspective.

Because I have been thinking about this book a lot.

But before we get into that, I want to ask a question about the link between play, performance, and profit.

I have not yet written the promised blog post on why I believe there is a difference between play and performance, or how I came up with this particular theory, but I have given you my personal definition of play vs. performance, so let’s recap:

Play is a gift you give yourself.

Performance is a gift you give an audience.

I have been to many performances that were, in fact, play — the people onstage were doing it to satisfy the internal urge to create but not the external urge to connect.*

Sometimes the people onstage charged money for us to watch them play, and in some cases I was a little disgruntled once I realized what I was watching.

Sometimes it was a situation where the audience wanted to pay money to watch great artists play — to see the creative process in process. I’ve gladly purchased those kinds of tickets.

I’ve also purchased tickets, bought books, paid to visit galleries, etc. to see performances, by which I mean completed work designed to guide an audience through an experience that engenders an emotional response. (Yes, I’m counting books and other forms of static art as performances.)

Sometimes these performances were given away for free.

More often, money changed hands. Willingly. Eagerly. Not out of obligation (like the $45 the dance studio makes you pay to attend your kid’s ballet recital) or even out of friendship. The audience paid money because they wanted the experience.

Which leads me to the question: is a performance effective if people are not willing to pay for it?

On the one hand, of course not. We don’t need to give people money in exchange for experiences; we’ve just agreed, culturally, that it’s the thing you do.

On the other hand: since it is a cultural thing, if people are not willing to give you money to experience your thing, then…

ON THE THIRD HAND THERE ARE A LOT OF PERFORMANCES IN THE WORLD RIGHT NOW, INCLUDING MANY EXCELLENT ONES, AND NOT ALL OF THEM ARE MARKETED EFFECTIVELY.

On the fourth hand I wrote “profit” in the title because of the alliteration, and there’s a huge difference between making money and making a profit, and I’m going to address that when I review Financial Freedom tomorrow, but let’s just keep in mind that good art can make money but still not be profitable because it cost more to make the art than the audience paid to experience it.

We’ll stop here, mostly because I’m out of time.

More tomorrow. ❤️

*This is one of the reasons there’s that perennial joke about nobody wanting to watch their friends do improv. (BUT WE DO IT ANYWAY BECAUSE WE LOVE YOU. Also because improv is six-sevenths of the way towards improve.)

Three-Act Structure vs. Hero’s Journey

As promised, I did some work last night to reshape NEXT BOOK’s plot into a traditional three-act structure.

Except once I got started, I realized that my outline for NEXT BOOK already fit a fairly standard plot structure: the Hero’s Journey.

The two plots are similar, in that they both follow the general “exposition, inciting incident, midpoint, rising action, climax, falling action” shape, but the specifics of each path are slightly different and YOU KNOW I’M ALL ABOUT SPECIFICITY.

I don’t want to get too spoilery about what I’m planning to write, but I’ve already shared enough about NEXT BOOK that very little of this should be new information. At this point, my outline goes something like this:

Our 30-something graying-haired heroine feels stuck in her responsibilities and MILLENNIAL BURNED-OUT.

She meets a mysterious stranger* (one of the two ways to start a story, if you believe the cliché) who’s all “you’re interesting, let’s have dinner.”**

Since she’s a 30-something woman in a year that is very like 2019, she’s all “um this is not how it’s done these days, also I don’t have a free hour on my calendar until April and maybe I don’t even want to deal with men right now” and nopes out.

The very next thing she does, according to my outline that I wrote before I reminded myself of what the Hero’s Journey actually was, is visit her grandmother. Because eldercare is one of her many responsibilities, and also because Grandma’s got some intriguing information to convey.

At this point, I was all huh, that’s the Refusal of the Call followed by the Meeting With the Mentor, wonder how the rest of my outline fits into the Hero’s Journey and it turns out that it fit, like, 80 percent perfectly and the rest can be handled by tweaking or not caring.***

If you would like to learn more about the Three-Act Structure and/or the Hero’s Journey, Reedsy has some excellent posts on each, with infographics (I love a good infographic):

How to Write a Novel Using The Three-Act Structure

The Hero’s Journey: an Author’s Guide to Plotting

And at this point I do think I’m actually ready to start writing. Which is good, because that’s my favorite part of the process. ❤️

*Yes, I know you’re thinking “but she said this would be a portal fantasy,” where do you think the mysterious stranger came from?

**The minute I figured out the whole “if you eat a food, you have to leave your home and live in a strange world” thing was not just a big deal for fairies, but also for Greek mythology and literally the story of Genesis, was a BIG MINUTE.

***Even some of the episodes I had originally written into my outline fit the Hero’s Journey — “our heroine Slacks her friends to ask whether they would theoretically go through a theoretical portal if they had the theoretical chance” counts as Gathering Allies, and the friends turn out to be very helpful at the end, NO SPOILERS.

Using Comp Covers to Clarify What Readers Need to Know About NEXT BOOK

I already had a mood board for NEXT BOOK (by which I mean I had a Google Doc with a bunch of internet images pasted into it), but at the Maggie Stiefvater Portraits and Dreams workshop last Saturday we discussed getting really specific about both mood and what types of emotions a reader can expect to have while reading the book.

One way to clarify this is to find other book covers that communicate the mood/emotion “if you pick up this book, you will get this kind of story” thing to the reader.

So… here we go.

Covers that suggest portal fantasies centered around a female character

Fun fact: neither of these books are actually portal fantasies! But they both feature a woman standing in front of SOMETHING NEW without fully stepping into it, which is the emotional conflict that drives Act 1 of NEXT BOOK.

Both books also suggest the SOMETHING NEW is SOMETHING OLD — an old clock, an old castle, etc. This is also an important component of NEXT BOOK, and something I’d like to flag for potential readers.

The colors on The Lost Girls of Paris are also kinda right for the mood I’m going for: this story includes both a portal and a mystery.

Yes, these books are both women’s fiction titles, which means they’ve got the perhaps-overdone FACELESS LADY on the cover, but FACELESS LADY works for a reason. (The reason is we imagine our own face on her face.)

Covers that suggest the primary conflict takes place inside a female character’s head

A Kingdom of Exiles, by S.B. Nova.
More Than Words, by Jill Santopolo

This set includes one fantasy title and one women’s fiction title, and of these two the fantasy book feels more like the overall mood I’m going for, but what I like about both of these books is that they suggest the story is about A WOMAN WHO MAKES A CHOICE. Does she choose the dream inside her head, or the expectations outside of it?

I also like these books because both of these women have their hair pulled up, and when I was doing image research for my main character I found this exactly-what-I-was-looking-for Instagram photo:

View this post on Instagram

“There are a lot of things about getting old that are far worse than the gray hair. I almost caved and dyed it the other day when some 11 year-olds figured out my age and said they were confused because their moms are at least a decade older but don’t have any gray hair. I didn’t cave, though. I’m going to teach loving oneself by example. 👵🏻” thanks for the inspiration! -Jen, 34, gray since my early twenties thanks @jdowt for sharing a courageous story with us. #grombre #gogrombre ▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️#goinggrey #greyhair #greyhairdontcare #greyhairs #grayhairdontcare #grayhair #grayhairs #silverfox #goinggray #goinggreygracefully #greyingout #naturalisbeautiful #confidence #naturalgrey #naturalgreyhair #naturalgray #naturalgrayhair #saltandpepperhair #saltandpepperhairdontcare #silversisters #silversister #naturalgreyhair #naturalbeauty #naturallygrey

A post shared by Going grey with (grohm)(bray) (@grombre) on

So that’s another reason why these covers feel right to me, although I’d also like to tip the reader off to the fact that this character is a woman in her 30s with graying hair. (BECAUSE THAT’S WHEN IT STARTS, Y’ALL.) We are often attracted to books that feature people similar to us, and I want to make sure that similarity is visible on the cover.

Covers that imply the universe and/or light science will be involved

I don’t think either of these covers contain enough information about the themes present in NEXT BOOK to be particularly useful, but I like the idea of cuing the reader in to the fact that THERE WILL BE A SCIENTIFIC EXPLANATION FOR THE PORTAL. Is that the most important thing the reader needs to know before deciding to read the book? Not really. (I could probably communicate it just as easily over flap/back cover copy, too.)

But as a reader myself, I tend to avoid the types of fantasies that aren’t rooted in reality (or at least a plausible reality). Suddenly finding yourself in the Magical Kingdom of Whatever isn’t good enough. I want to know why you, and why is this place a monarchy, and how does this fit in with the available parallel universe theories that are legitimized by math.*

So that’s where I am, in terms of figuring out what I want this book to communicate to its reader. Because that’s what this exercise is really about, since book cover trends change so quickly that you can’t set your heart on one type of cover before you’ve even written the first page.

*No, seriously. It is extremely mathematically likely that there are parallel universes, if the universe operates according to the rules of mathematics. Go read Brian Greene’s The Hidden Reality: Parallel Universes and the Deep Laws of the Cosmos.

What the Maggie Stiefvater Portraits and Dreams Seminar Taught Me About Plot

I’m flying back to Cedar Rapids this morning,* but I wanted to tell you all that Maggie Stiefvater’s Portraits and Dreams writing seminar was AMAZING and HUGELY INFORMATIONAL and OH WOW I WANT TO START WRITING THIS BOOK RIGHT AWAY EXCEPT I HAVE A FEW MORE PIECES I NEED TO PUT TOGETHER FIRST, and if you were thinking about attending one of the upcoming Portraits and Dreams seminars you have my word that it is SO SO SO SO WORTH IT.

That said, I’m not going to give you any specifics as to what was discussed at the seminar, because no spoilers.

I will note that before I actually start writing NEXT BOOK I am going to do some extra background work on the mood I’m trying to convey with this story, which is not technically a spoiler because Maggie Stiefvater has already written about the importance of mood in storytelling on her Tumblr.

I’ll also note that the seminar made me think absolutely 100% differently about plot. This I think I can share, because it wasn’t actually discussed in the seminar at all.

Well, plot was. In the traditional three-act-structure sense.

I have never been a huge fan of the traditional three-act structure, mostly because I could see through it by the time I was ten years old. (It was 1992. I was watching The Mighty Ducks, and when they got to the part where the coach did a bad thing and the team split up but then someone came back with an inspirational speech and they all went out on the ice anyway I remember thinking all these stories are just telling the same story and I was furious.)

This is one of the reasons why The Biographies of Ordinary People is episodic. That and the fact that I was trying to write a contemporary book that made 30-something readers feel the way we did when we read (or re-read) Little Women or Anne of Green Gables, both of which are episodic stories.

But Maggie was talking about the way she used three-act structure in The Raven Boys, and I was sitting there thinking “well, but that isn’t really three-act structure because there isn’t the part where the coach does a bad thing and then the team splits up and then someone comes back with an inspirational speech and they all go out on the ice anyway OH WAIT.”

Substitute Cabeswater for “the ice,” and literally all of that happens in The Raven Boys. It’s just not the emotional focus of the story. When Gansey and Adam fight and the team does in fact split up, you don’t really notice that’s where you are in the three-act structure because emotionally you’re with Gansey and Adam in this intimate, human, complicated moment. You don’t even notice that the team has split up because the team doesn’t think they’re split up. (Or, more accurately, they’re still hoping they can stay together.)

In other words, unlike the types of books that made me never want to write a traditionally-plotted novel in my life, the chapter doesn’t end with “The door slammed. That was it. The Raven Boys were through.”

Maggie did not discuss how to write the type of story that has the emotional satisfaction of the traditional three-act structure** without the predictability of such, but it made me think of her blog post about how to create characters that aren’t cartoons or clichés.

I suspect the path towards creating a plot that isn’t a cliché leads in the same direction.

Anyway, NEXT BOOK is going to have a traditional three-act structure now.*** First to see if I can do it, and second to see if I can hide what I’m doing while I’m doing it.

Wish me luck. ❤️

*This is a lie. Not the part where I’m flying back to Cedar Rapids on Monday morning. The part where I actually wrote this post on Sunday night.

**We did discuss emotional satisfaction in the seminar, so no spoilers, but I don’t think it’s much of a spoiler to hint that Aristotle was right.

***I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a goof, but no I didn’t really have a structure for NEXT BOOK. My outline had an opening, and it had an inciting incident, and then it had a bunch of episodes because I’m reallll good with episodes, and then it had a big thing that changed everything, and then I told myself I’d figure the rest out when I got there. TIME TO FIGURE IT OUT, and also cut a few of those episodes and make the whole story actually story-shaped.

How I Found the Time to Write NEXT BOOK

I’m going to be attending Maggie Stiefvater’s Portraits and Dreams writing seminar this weekend, assuming the ARCTIC OUTBREAK doesn’t ground me in Iowa.*

Here’s the workshop description, aka “why I signed up in a hot minute:”

Join Maggie Stiefvater as she covers developing ideas into novels you’ll truly love (and finish), crafting memorable characters, writing supernatural elements in unique and meaningful ways, and structuring your writing work day. Four hours of lecture and one and an hour of informal Q&A.

I am particularly interested in that “writing supernatural elements in unique and meaningful ways” part, as it is one of the big problems I have to solve in NEXT BOOK.

But I’ve told myself that, when I come back, I start writing. I’ve spent plenty of time outlining and thinking about the characters and pulling together inspirational images and researching the death of the universe.

So I do the workshop, and then I start.

And I see what happens.

The question then becomes: when should I do this writing?

My original assumption was that I’d write after hours and on weekends, same as I did for The Biographies of Ordinary People. However, my life is a little different than it was back in 2015 — I’ve gotten involved in a lot of stuff, from running a small business to singing in a choir, and maybe it’s just because I’m a little older, but I don’t have the energy to put in evening work in addition to my all-day work. Evenings are for reading and playing the piano and spending time with people and choir rehearsal and taking Les Mills classes at the YMCA.

Then I realized I had created this lovely slot of focused writing time, right here, right now, first thing in the morning when I tend to do my best work.

So I’m going to give some of these writing slots to NEXT BOOK.

This means you won’t get a new Creative Practice Club post every day, since I’ll be spending some of this time actually doing the creative practice.

Right now I’m thinking MWF for blog posts and TTH for book drafting, though we’ll see how it goes. I reserve the right to make things work the way they need to work so I can get THE WORK done.**

Anyway, I’ll keep you posted — and I’ll keep posting. ❤️

*Right now, my educated guess is that my Thursday CID-ORD-LGA flight will be canceled but they’ll get me there on Friday. The workshop itself is Saturday, and I gave myself that buffer specifically for this type of situation. Midwest winters, y’all.

**That’s what building a creative practice is all about, after all.

The Thoughts That Occupy Your Thoughts

I’ve been thinking — and this is no way an original idea, but I’ve been thinking it anyway — about how one of the (perhaps necessary?) components of creativity is the ability to let the creative work occupy your thoughts.

Or, more specifically: the ability to let the creative work be the problem your brain tries to solve in the shower.

We already know that our brains do a lot of excellent problem-solving work while they aren’t focused on other stuff; this is why we get insights in the shower and on walks and while we’re unloading the dishwasher and when we wake up at 3 a.m. to a brain that’s all “I figured it out! Now write it down or I won’t let you go back to sleep again.”

(Or, sometimes: “I’m upset that I haven’t figured it out yet! Let’s do some thinking RIGHT NOW or I won’t let you go back to sleep again.”)

But I’ve found that my brain likes to concern itself with the biggest problem in my life at the moment, and if there is a problem that’s more important than NEXT BOOK, that’s the problem that my brain’s going to want to tackle when I’m not focused on anything else.

I am very good at focusing on work even when there are larger issues going on in my life or in the world. I can tell myself “this is the discrete task I need to complete right now, and I’ll still be in the emergency room/I’ll still have that meeting where I have to have the difficult conversation/Trump will still be president when I’m done.”

But I don’t know how to control the problems my brain wants to solve afterwards.

The thoughts that occupy my thoughts.

I just finished reading Cal Newport’s Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World, and he and David Allen and everyone else notes that open brain loops are huge mind-sucks (and yes, I’m using “suck” in the colloquial way here).

Newport references the thing where you check your email on Saturday morning and learn that there’s some unresolved issue or difficult conversation or large task that you won’t be able to tackle until Monday, and so your brain wastes the whole weekend chewing over the problem and rehearsing fictitious conversations and wondering what might happen and analyzing all of the potential outcomes.

He suggests creating a “shutdown ritual,” as follows:

To succeed with this strategy, you must first accept the commitment that once your workday shuts down, you cannot allow even the smallest incursion of professional concerns into your field of attention.

[…]

In more detail, this ritual should ensure that every incomplete task, goal, or project has been reviewed and that for each you have confirmed that either (1) you have a plan you trust for its completion, or (2) it’s captured in a place where it will be revisited when the time is right. This process should be an algorithm: a series of steps you always conduct, one after another. When you’re done, have a set phrase you say that indicates completion (to end my own ritual, I say “Shutdown complete”). This final step sounds cheesy, but it provides a simple cue to your mind that it’s safe to release work-related thoughts for the rest of the day.

I’m going to start integrating shutdown rituals into my own work, but some work problems are too large to be shut down at the end of the day (ASK ME HOW I KNOW) and even though I was able to do some excellent thinking on my current work problem over the weekend and come up with a potential solution, that’s all time I wasn’t spending on NEXT BOOK.

Or anything else.

Which makes me wonder if people can only tackle a large creative project if they don’t have any more-important problems for their brains to solve.

I’m not saying “if they don’t have any more-important issues in their lives,” btw. People do creative work during births and deaths and illnesses and unemployments and all kinds of things.

But if the problem is still an open loop, if it hasn’t resolved into a stasis or a plan of action, if the issue is not “okay, we’re going to do X and it will be time-consuming and no fun but that’s just how our lives will be right now” but “what are we going to do about X, there are ten options and twelve difficult conversations ahead of us,” is it possible to not let those thoughts occupy your thoughts?

I don’t know.

I’d be interested to know how your brain deals with these kinds of situations.

On Choosing Where to Put Your Time and Your Focus

Today I gave the time I usually spend writing this post to something both more urgent and more important.

I’m also pretty sure I gave away the brainspace I’d have used to write it, ’cause right now I only have the mental energy for administrative work (luckily, The Billfold always has plenty of that).

See you Monday. ❤️

Paul Harding’s Thoughts on Writing, Publishing, and the Self

Today you need to read Pulitzer-prize-winning author Paul Harding’s essay about how he created Tinkers, which is to say that I needed very much to read this essay today (it was published this morning at LitHub), and I’m pretty sure I’ll need to read it tomorrow and the next day as well.

Here’s your link: When a Very Small Press Wins a Pulitzer: Paul Harding Looks Back at Tinkers, Ten Years On.

Here’s your excerpt:

My wonderful writing teachers, Marilynne Robinson and Elizabeth McCracken, always urged never to confuse publishing with writing, that they were two very different things. I took the rejection of Tinkers by the market to mean that if I meant to continue, it was possible that I would be a writer who wrote but did not publish. Rejection, then, freed me from thinking about publishing.

At first, of course, it didn’t feel a thing like freedom. I despaired at what I thought of as my fatally quaint and antique interest in and capacity for lyric pastoral, for birchbark metaphysics. But really, I’d been given the privilege of working my way out of the self-consciousness that comes from evaluating one’s natural artistic inclinations against prevailing conceit and fashion and into the self-awareness that makes for intellectual and aesthetic autonomy.

Here’s your other excerpt, because this hit me SO HARD:

Few things interest me less than myself as a subject for my writing. But few things interest me more than the experience of being a “self” and portraying the experiences of selfhood through literary characters composed of words.

Read the whole thing. Read it twice. Bookmark it so you’ll have it when you need to read it the next time. ❤️