While I wait to hear back from MFA fiction programs — I am expecting nine more rejection letters — I am not writing short stories, barely reading, and the New Yorker bill has laid to waste. My reading list is following suit. Afraid of being told I can’t write, lately I’ve been reading books that question writing’s value. In the midst of writing a story I often consult a shelf of ‘Why Literature Rules’ but as I await rejection I have moved those books over for a stack of ‘Why Literature Sucks’ and haven’t looked back. It’s a great comfort to find in Bartleby & Co., by Enrique Vila-Matas, that “Robert Walser knew that writing that one cannot write is also writing.” Sometimes the best kind of self-help is commiseration, gloom, and Schopenhauer.






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