But then one day I decided to start a blog I called Frances Farmer Is My Sister, where I began to communicate with other voices. A small community of mostly women, all writers, each to their own cages, in different corners of the world. In private email exchanges and in the public comments on our blogs, we began to speak of solitude, like Katherine and Virginia. To speak of writing. To confess and hear confessions of the pauses and gaps and scratches that were not writing, but still part of this cycle. I even began correspondences with a few where we spoke about our marriages and partnerships,
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