They always say write what you know. And what I know best is not my few successes, but my endless failures. Oh, I’m a failer. I fail! Over and over. Stick around long enough and you’ll get to see it! Or just wait a few seconds. And I’ve been doing this editing thing for the better part of 20 years,
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I need a story about failure,” I said to Sheri and the girls as we sat down to a Saturday night dinner of take-out pizza. “Surely you can help me think of something,” I added, laughing. “Should be plenty of material.” But whether they knew something they didn’t want to share, or couldn’t think of anything, no one had an answer.
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I have to think of a story of a time I was a failure,” I said to my family at dinner after reciting the perfunctory prayer and filling our plates with Saturday night pizza. “I can’t think of anything,” I added, laughing. It was clearly not for any lack of material. “Can you think of a time you failed?” Sheri thought
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