Respond to every call that excites your spirit.
She’s a writer’s worst enemy. She’ll make you despise language; adjectives have lost all meaning, and nobody would understand that the world should stop when they read the sentence “she looked at me.” You’ll want to dedicate the first four chapters to the way she moves. You couldn’t describe her face even if you tried, and god, you’ve tried. You’ll stay up till 4:00 am in completely fury, because how the fuck are you supposed to explain that you can feel her voice in your heartbeats? Paper couldn’t possibly hold the weight of her existence, but you will die trying to transfer her there, because you know that a human being like her will never happen again. She’s the reason people become writers.