I heard Nina crying in the kitchen. When she was younger, she’d start bawling if her toast were cut wrong. But this was quiet, frustrated sobbing.
I approached her gently. “What’s wrong, Love?”
“I don’t know how to write this. It’s stupid.” She shoved her notebook across the table.
“Is this for school?”
“No.”
“You’re writing it for fun?”
She nodded.
“How long have you been working on it?”
“I just started.”
“Oh, that’s just the first draft. It’s not supposed to be good. Just get those ideas down. You can change it later.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, that’s how it’s done.”
About the Creator
Leslie Writes
Another struggling millennial. Writing is my creative outlet and stress reliever.
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