Arthur had 10 hours to make words magically appear on the screen in front of him. Somewhere between his 3rd cup of coffee and pulling his hair out, he heard the faint voice of his dead grandmother ringing in his head.
“A writer?” she’d ask with fear. “But how will you eat? How will you feed your children? How will you find a woman? Can’t you just go to dental school like your cousin Louis? Or be an accountant like your cousin Stefanie? Or a lawyer like your father? You can write...
