It took me a while to realize that my book had failed.
“By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept,” by Elizabeth Smart
So he handed us both another can and I started drinking. I couldn’t even get halfway through it. I remember lying down and feeling so sick, he gave me a silver bowl in case I threw up. As soon as he took the silver bowl away from me, I threw up. I was lying down. It got over all my face and my hair, I woke up in the same position. I had throw-up dried on my face and in my hair.
Bed, Raff, and Beyond
a new essay about writing and being read is up now, by the anonymous author of the blog My Dead Parents