The Fuckless State

For those among our species who are perennially anxious, self-aware, eager-to-please, and disenfranchised in one way or another, writing can be like an assault course we have to run daily. We are both addicted to it and beat up by it. Imagineus, pens clamped in our teeth, cold sweat glistening in our palms, noise-cancelling headphones not quite working against the distant hum of the Internet like a carcinogenic high-voltage line strung acrossthe middle of a nature reserve. See us clamber and...