cutting in
This letter is a part of the series Maybe, Maybe — unfiltered notes from the process of creating with absolutely no idea what’s next. If you are someone who might read someone else’s diary if it were just laying around, this is a little like that.
December
The last day of the year — I was away at the holidays. Read a novel that makes me wish I was better at writing them. A brain fizz of a book.
What else is there like it? That feeling.
I always mean to take photos of the lines that move me but I go somewhere else when I’m reading and I don’t ever remember that I have a phone when I’m there.
*
January
Thursday — I have no idea what I’m doing each day at the desk. It’s unusual, so unlike me to be without a goal for each hour spent at the keyboard. I deleted an entire paragraph that I have protected for over five years and in its place wrote three lines about a meat factory floor.
Is this a novel about factories? you might wonder.
No.