Last night at a party, I confessed to a near-stranger that I’d almost finished the second draft of my first novel. She asked me to describe it in a sentence. I told her, “It’s the story of a golden wolf who rejects his destiny to become a god.”
With that simple utterance, I showed her a sliver of my soul. What terrifying joy.
And now, hopeless narcissist that I am, I’m sharing that same sliver with all of you.