The writer, the woman who made my breakfast sandwich, and the people around the campfire 

I talked with a young writer this week because his teacher was exasperated. He’d been working on the same draft for weeks, and my best calculations revealed he wrote almost one line in his composition book per week. He was shy and embarrassed when we started talking. (He was talking with me as part of a demon lesson. There were 25 teachers in the room and I struck a deal with him that he could bolt from the conference at any time — no questions asked. Thankfully he hung in… Read more The writer, the woman who made my breakfast sandwich, and the people around the campfire  →