Morning walk. Brrr…
This morning in the cafe I read Steve Almond’s great story in the Best American Short Stories 2010 collection. I find him a very amusing writer. So sharp-witted. I’m not like that. I feel slow and dreamy about my writing a lot of the time.
After that, I allowed myself to think about all of my chapters. This seems self-indulgent sometimes because it feels so good. So fucking warm and safe. I held all the chapters in my head. I nudged them up against each other. I thought about what was missing. I thought about how they felt together and apart. I could hear them breathing.
I’m going to start a rewrite soon. Or December maybe. Whenever this freelance work gets done I guess.
I printed out half of the book this weekend before my toner ran out. I found a box of toner in the closet this morning. I moved the box next to the printer. I didn’t open it yet.
The first line of the book is, “How could she not feed their daughter?”
