slave to love

Sometimes I think you can love the craft of writing too much. And then feel too obligated to get it right. Feel tongue-tied in its presence, star-struck, weakened by love. And so you beg every word, and can't breathe for gratitude when it is given, and you know you are not worthy of writing a whole book, not here at the feet of your love, not with such mere awkward prose and desperate need as you have to offer.

1 comment:

Karen Edmisten said...

"let me love a lesser being - a paperback prince, a romance hero with no subtext."

I love this, Sarah.