Now I am slowly killing the illness instead of it killing me. I have been at the Times several months now. Sometimes it still seems like a dream to see my byline, my name, in such a big paper. My struggles with my writing are not the same as they once were. Though I loved journalism, writing has always been very painful.
Writing implies sacrifice.
I usually sit in front of the computer, write a sentence and then erase it. I write it again and erase it. I read it aloud and it does not make sense. I feel like pulling my hair out or beating my head against the monitor, pleading with the monitor to just give me the right words. But it does not.