A year into the pandemic, I'm still stressed

In one of my earliest memories I was sharing a page of my writing with my mother. It was nothing more than a piece of newsprint with a smattering of l's and o's, but she told me to keep it up. Little did I know that 35 years later I'd be a small town journalist working amid a pandemic.

The road to becoming a writer is strange. For me it began with an innate interest in hearing other people's stori...