Psychology Today | 11.05.2026 09:05
The email came in early Wednesday morning. I was in one of those brittle creative moods where every unfinished project seemed gathered around my desk like creditors. I had been checking sales figures for my memoir, Easy Street: A Story of Redemption From Myself, because I am apparently the sort of person who can write publicly about spiritual growth while privately refreshing BookScan like a lab rat hammering a pellet dispenser.
