Writing a novel is a well-worn path.
The Greats have walked in the alleyways of chapters, pillared by margins, picking up symbols by the side of the road, turning them over with careful hands.
Memoir, nonfiction books, too—these same hills of truth have been hiked by beggars and kings alike.
Writing can be climbing a mountain. Writing can be walking a sandy path down through dunes. Writing can be a stroll, writing can be a sprint. But one thing is for sure: the writing path is transformed by the one seeing it. No two path-takers see the same story, and no two leave it the same.
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