Look Ma, I Give Up

This morning was the grim sort wherein the thin whisper of heat emanating from the electric kettle feels in its proximity to my hands like the last flame on the face of the earth. And yes, I did in fact hold my hands near the kettle until it beeped only then did I pour the boiling water into my coffee grounds. Then I made a piece of toast.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my writing process. In part, this is because I’m in a composition class that expects me to do so, but also because I’...