Instead of writing product descriptions...

I spent time with my stepsiblings at a bar with a football field painted on the ceiling. We were playing darts and trying to forget about the bust-into-tears-at-any-moment sadness of my stepbrother Paul's death.

Instead of writing a pitch letter about my recent surgery...

I wrote about my step-brother Paul, who passed away on Saturday. It was totes cathartic.

Instead of working on some freelance web writing...

I swapped dysfunctional family stories with my pal Stacya.