Tweet Summer, 1986: Age 8. Beat-up maroon rocking chair, yellow legal pad. Perfect handwriting giving way to messy scrawls. Perfectionist in me balks. Crumples up paper and throws onto the living room floor. Stories about horses and girl-run candy shops never see the light of day. Spring, 1990. Spelling bee runner-up. Loses to ‘sciscors’. I mean, […]
