‘On the surface writing seems such a glamorous pastime.

A labour of love; witty; delicate, even. To me, writing feels more like an orchestral exorcism (god, that sounds oddly sexual).There’s no red wine, brooding stares or candlelight. Instead, I gladly settle for a pound shop version of playing Ben Howard or Laura Marling on my tinny phone speaker as I furiously pen monologues of intense emotion.’

Read the full article on Medium.