I feel the same way about cheese and beer. Like, both of those things go through some truly ugly steps to reach a beautiful end and someone had to say, “No, don’t throw this away! It’s going to get better. Trust me.”

Also – you share a birthday with Shakespeare and (possibly) Cervantes? I think that’s pretty cool.
And ‘zero birthday’ – never thought of it that way before.

I await 30 (next year) with interest and hope for the grace too.

and then just a minute ago my brother texted to tell me that he and my sister pitched in and got me a buddhist monk pen pal from India, and I lost it. my mother and I just got done sobbing and eating raw vegan carrot cake. what a day.

Tom may well have some deep, dark thoughts about a sibling he isn’t ready to confront. Or maybe he quit the workshop because he didn’t want to suffer a room full of total strangers taking something he’d intended to convey genuine warmth between siblings and making it seem perverse.

I’m going solely based on what you’re describing here (Tom is cast as a square because of his average/dull personal style), don’t have the benefit of having been in the workshop, and haven’t read the poor bastard’s submission, so I get that it’s likely I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. But I do appreciate the irony of Patrick calling the guy a “fucking loser” in the midst of all that other elitist chin-stroking bullshit he’s espousing. If you think yammering on about mundane inner torment legitimizes your writing, I’ll have to respectfully disagree.

I’m sorry stuff sucks. I’m sorry you can’t write. Sometimes I feel that there’s something I want to draw that’s trying to claw it’s way out of me and something else choking it back and I’m about ready to hack it out of my chest with a knife (not literally but that’s what it feels like) and it would be a relief.

You are my hero, you know.