Making Ladders

Six years ago now I told my husband I was quitting writing.

It wasn’t the first time I told him that, but that time he took me seriously.  He knew it had been building a long time, partly frustration, partly insufficient recompense, partly that proverbial hostile work environment.

It wasn’t a matter of my being tired of writing, or frustrated with my own progress.  I’d had those moments too, coming up.  I once gave up writing for two weeks.  At the end of which Dan and the boys begged me to g...