Here’s a quick piece where I talk about writing. Enjoy!
This writing rut I was in led me to eventually skip Sex and the City reruns whenever I came across them, and made me hate Carrie Bradshaw to this day. Screw you Carrie! You write a column in a paper, not even on the internet, and you get offered a book deal? You probably didn’t even use social media or build up a community around your work! And get out of here with your brownstone apartment. There is no way you could afford an apartment that size in BLOOMINGTON, let alone New York City on writing one stupid column. I highly doubt your freelance career could pay for one of your Manalo’s, let alone an apartment. Rent controlled my ass, you were probably stealing money out of Mr. Big’s wallet every chance you got. That’s why he moved to Paris! That’s why he married Natasha! And another thing. If you were a writer sitting around in New York City, you would be fatter. Smoke all you want stick figure, sitting around all day in your apartment, you’d be stuffing your face with old cheese found in the fridge. I’ve been to New York City. I know they have cupcakes there. And you know what? If you were ‘suuuuch’ a good friend and a fashionista, why did you let Miranda walk around in those hideous suits for men in the first three seasons? HUH? WHY? You know what I ‘couldn’t help but wonder?’ How you’re full of it.
This is what watching TV for a year will do to a person.