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Seclusion. Sort of.

At least once a year my head becomes constipated and I panic that I’ll never write again and I have to go into seclusion for a few days and force myself to write even if I end up deleting most of it the next morning.  I will sit in a small, quiet hotel room and hate myself and remind myself that writing is torture but having written is the greatest feeling in the world.  So you can probably expect me on twitter asking questions like, “What’s the word for when you’re so pissed you literally throw people out the window?”  Except I won’t ask that because that word is “defenestration” and I know that because my grandparents were Czech and my grandmother told me that Bohemians were way into defenestration left and right, and advised me to stay on the ground floor whenever possible, which is one of the strangest and best pieces of advice I’ve ever received.  They also taught me how to make fruit koláče and dance the polka.  It wasn’t all defenestration.

Also, Victor thinks that “don’t get thrown out of windows” isn’t really great advice but I disagree and I’ve never been thrown out of a window, so I guess it’s working out so far, Victor.

Just me?

PS. Not “Just me?” as in I’m unusual in not having been thrown out of a window yet, but is it just me who got weird advice that stuck with you for your whole life?

 

 

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