Writing

Today it’s like this: reorganize first, or write first? If the former, how do I know what goes where? If the latter, how do I …

I feel like a hermit, a monk, a mendicant. Or perhaps like one of Pavlov’s dogs, waiting for the bell to ring. Or a prisoner, …

A brilliant, hopeful morning. I am reading through the draft; I am thinking: this is good. It’s good. And: it can be better. The moment …

It turns out I only needed to print about 30 pages… and put approximately the same number in the shredding pile. I put the newly …

The evenings are hard: two so far. I do a little of this and that, and I do a little work, and a little this …

I create the Rules of The Room as I go. Here is the list so far: Talk to no one. Email no one. Read no …

Three weeks ago, on a Monday afternoon, I cut out Teddy. Alarmingly, it took me only two hours. This morning I decide to cut Oak; …

The night, for some reason, is interminable. I wake every hour and wonder if my clock is working. At 4 a.m. I wake fully with …

The book is boring; it goes in the discard box. At 4 o’clock I begin to pace. Seven steps across, seven steps back, for twenty …

At noon I am finally ready. The first day is for practice: I lie on the mat and read, not committing myself to work, or …