I'm beginning to feel that writers are ducks.
And when it comes to memoir I am a duck out of water. I fumble around awkwardly begging my readers for a little bit of bread and turning tail when they show any genuine interest in my duckdom. I feel safe in the pond of fiction where I can glide along smoothly and quietly, more apart of the scenery than the actual notable object.
And when it comes to memoir I am a duck out of water. I fumble around awkwardly begging my readers for a little bit of bread and turning tail when they show any genuine interest in my duckdom. I feel safe in the pond of fiction where I can glide along smoothly and quietly, more apart of the scenery than the actual notable object.
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