It’s that time again. Summer was born premature, underweight, and with little chance of survival.
It held on a while, kept alive by the foolish hopes and dreams of all those who loved it. Then, before we could get to know it, it died.
Here’s a fact: I hate writing cover letters.
It’s the worst.
People think you should be good at it because you’re a writer, but it’s not the same. I know a lot of writers have trouble with it, too.
So I’m not going to say too much.… Read the rest