Writer
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So I failed NaNoWriMo. I could have written 50,000 words, but I didn’t. I could have written everyday in the month of November, but I didn’t. I could have finished my novel, but I didn’t. I could be upset about my failure, but I’m not. The thing is, I did so much more this month
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I began writing poetry when I was 12 years old. I faithfully wrote, then typed, saved, and transferred every scrap of poetry, prose, and story that came was born from my mind. Yesterday, in hopes of finding something worth professional publication, I decided to go through every bit of my writing from the last decade
Bringing Mae Flowers 