I’m No Longer Chasing “Literary Success”
Who doesn’t yearn to be read and recognized?
Who cares what you want to say about a book that came out two years ago—how are you going to buy groceries?
The occult-enthusiast-to-“Catholic”-tradwife pipeline. The teenager I thought was unfairly dogpiled for being a less-than-avid reader is a forty-year-old employed by a defense-contracting company. What does a twenty-four-year-old critic’s TikTok feud with the star of a movie I haven’t seen say about culture?
No, you don’t need to dedicate unpaid hours to an internship to write. No, you are not behind. You are at school to learn; utilize it to its fullest advantage.
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I’ve wondered if I, too, have become a member of a generation reluctant to move past adolescence.
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Just as I was reaching the peak of my abilities—and as the pandemic began—I left professional ballet behind, before ever giving my dreams a proper try.
Their judgment is clear every time, and my aunt is the only one who is bold enough to say it with her chest: I am a bad mom.