I have a drawer in my apartment that I think of as the drawer of good intentions. Except it is not actually a drawer. It is a canvas tote bag stuffed inside another canvas tote bag, wedged between my radiator and a stack of Playbills I keep meaning to organize by year. Inside the outer …
There’s a moment, usually around 7:42 AM on a Tuesday, when I find myself glaring at my electric toothbrush with the kind of venom most people reserve for someone who talks through the entire movie. It hums in my hand, a smug little timer counting down the two minutes I’m contractually obligated to spend scrubbing …
The Tyranny of the Muse: Why My Routine Is a Grumpy Cat I have a confession. I don’t trust inspiration. She’s a flaky friend who cancels plans at the last minute, usually to go hang out with someone who just bought a new Moleskine notebook and a fancy pen. For years, I waited for her. …
I have a confession. If you leave me to my own devices, I will spend an entire Tuesday rearranging the spice rack by the emotional color of the sunset I think each one most resembles. Turmeric is a clear winner, blazing orange-gold. Dried parsley looks like a regretful Tuesday. This is not a productive use …
I have a confession. For the better part of four decades, I believed creativity was a wild animal. You couldn’t tame it, you couldn’t schedule it, and you certainly couldn’t ask it to show up at 9:15 a.m. on a Tuesday, right after your second cup of Earl Grey and the ritual scraping of burnt …