If we can’t read passages from our favorite classic novels aloud to one another whilst enjoying dark chocolate tiramisu and a bottle of Château Margaux in front of a crackling fire in a Victorian mansion during a full moon on a cold winter’s night, then what’s the point?

Bluesky is like going to your aunt’s house and she shows you a Facebook meme from 2015 but you love her so you smile and pretend you’ve never seen it before

Stuck on a writing project? Here's what I always ask myself in that situation: Emily, have you considered that you might not be very good and should abandon writing altogether and move to the woods and make candles or possibly become a nun or something?