I’ve only ever been one of two kinds of writer.
The late-night/late afternoon writer… or the office bird. I have struggled my entire life to fit my loud as heck personality into a tiny office. Every morning I would get up, mull over what I was going to wear, fighting myself to put clothing on that is appropriate.
‘Would someone’s grandma approach me wearing this?’ if the answer was ‘Nope’, I’d have to start again.
No, I cannot wear a shirt that has a dead bird on it or one that says, “Sorry, I ate your dog.” This mental conundrum…