Literature’s Fate

In a recent post on Instagram by the poet Mark Wunderlich, he shared an image of a greyish white book washed of its letters, peeled back of the paper’s layers, and frayed at the edges. The caption reads, in part, “Mary Ruefle keeps a decomposing book in her yard to remind herself of the fate of all literature, and how we write anyway because we must.” Write an essay inspired by Ruefle’s decomposing book that meditates on the “fate” of your own writing. What lasting impact would you like to make? Is this what drives you to write?

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