I’m asked lately why I’m still writing. My answer is, “it’s what I do. I’m a writer.” For me, not writing is like not breathing. Something occurs to me, and my mind and heart conspire to create the words that come out on paper. It’s just what I do and it’s who I am.
Then I’m asked the question, “How can you write and speak so openly about your death?” That’s a different question with a different…