Strictly on business.

I caught the bouncers' looks of what the fuck? as we went down the stairs. That was okay. I was clearly not suitably attired, in my polka-dot dress and scruffy flats, for celebrations of the night. The dimly-lit room was brought alive every night with swirling lights the exact shade of Barbie's heels. A rotating stage, adorned with padded stools and gold bars in the shape of a circular cage,...

Out of sheer desperation.

At twelve, I was just little enough to still have to share a room with my sister, but definitely big enough to know that I wanted to write for the rest of my life, even if - or especially if - I wasn't good at it or if I couldn't make any money from it. Even though I had never heard of workspaces like desks and studios that real artists with a capital A used, I felt like I needed a special space. I...