This bust of Virginia Woolf stands in the garden at Monks House where her ashes were scattered.
Seventy years ago today Virginia Woolf drowned herself. It would be remiss not to remember a writer who continues to inspire probably more than any other.
During my Narrative Nonfiction writing class, I came across the following quote from an essay, Memory and Imagination, by Patricia Hampl that I really liked. "I think of the reader as a cat, endlessly fastidious, capable by turns of mordant indifference and riveted attention,
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