What it feels like to be a writer

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 I created this image after many months homebound due to extreme pain and fatigue, while simultaneously writing my hybrid-memoir with the hopes I could share a copy with my grandmother before she passed. The image closely resembles the actual room and the bed I often worked on, the blurred vision through the window a representation of  my whole view of the outside world at the time. Writing comes from the soul and in this image we see the vulnerability and the confessional nature of writing juxtaposed with the cool blue, serene, ocean like blanket on which the writer rests. Blood flows out of the body and on to the page. But the writer continues, buoyed by their passion.