Like a lot of assholes on the internet, I like to call myself a writer. Still, I’ve never been the “blogging” type: structuring my thoughts into well-organized paragraphs and sections is much less appealing to me than screaming my thoughts and feelings into the ether that is social media. I’ve done copywriting for previous employers, but it was always purposely impersonal; there’s only so much personality to be injected into an article on best practices for maintaining a web presence for their business or the best apps for last-minute holiday shoppers. I’m a writer of fiction. I say this, of course, having never published my work and showing it to only a handful of people. That’s for a lot of reasons. As a teenager, I wanted to be a published author before age 20. That didn’t happen. At the start of 2018, I decided that my goal for the year would be to have a working manuscript for a fantasy novel ready to send to potential literary agents. That likely won’t happen. I vivid...