I’ve always been comfortable being alone. Not in a performative, monk-on-a-mountain sort of way—but in the quiet, backyard-on-a-summer-evening kind of way. I’m an introvert by nature. Growing up, there were stretches when there were other kids in the neighborhood and stretches when there weren’t. During the quiet times, I turned inward. I imagined stories, builtContinue reading “The Silence Between Pages: On Loneliness in My Books”
