This guy thinks he’s going to nose his way into my apartment and loll about on my couches all day long but he’s NOT. Yesterday I found him hanging out in the red kid’s wagon on the front porch, waiting for me to open the door. I don’t know why he thinks he’s going to what he wants

I’m sort of on lockdown over here (as much as one can be in New Orleans) until I finish the first draft of this new book, which I am achingly close to doing, like seven chapters away from the end, seven chapters which might be ready to come out very easily if I can just keep my head on straight. Super fucking focused, I wrote to Kate in an email this morning. Keep the drinking to a minimum, lots of yoga, lots of water, food that makes you feel powerful, reading in the downtime, a bike ride a day, no distractions, just the end in sight. Basically whatever it takes to finish it I am willing to do. And maybe you’re wondering if I would feel this way if I had stayed in New York right now, and I do not think I would. I do believe I had to leave town to make this happen.

This book feels amazingly imperfect to me, messy and beautiful, but it’s possible whatever I wrote after The Middlesteins would feel that way, because I adored that last book so much, the connection so strong it was like it was a limb, perhaps a sibling, or, at the very least, a friend. This book has to be my transitional book, destined to be one that I loved less. But still I love it. It is a step forward, not a step back. It feels different than anything I have written before, especially in terms of structure. I am doing some good writing with this. Every day – at this point, anyway, and maybe it was not this way at the beginning, and I have finally just found the voice of the book now – I am pleased with the work that I have done. Every day there are more than a few sentences I wish you all could read right now.

Now I just have to finish the damn thing.

Life here: a fantastic lunch at Liuzza’s By The Track and the next day drinks at French 75 with new friends Brett and Kira (the latter event with many, many writers), lots of yoga at Divine Yoga, brunch with Miranda at the Ruby Slipper and then a lazy day at the Audubon Park. Delicious gumbo in the French Quarter with Karen. I have seen some gorgeous houses. I have had a few delicious cocktails. I ride my bike around in the sunshine every day. I watched a Saints game! In a bar. For the first time in approximately ever I now know the names of professional athletes – at least ones who were not involved in a sex scandal – because it is impossible to avoid it here. Also I went to the Ogden Museum to watch Ersy give a talk about her work. Also I have slept hours and hours, all the way through the night, for the first time in months, and I had no idea how much I suffered from anxiety until I left Brooklyn.

I wish I were taking more pictures, but you can’t have it all. (She said wistfully.)

I just hang out here, which is pretty great. That’s not something I do in New York. In New York I schedule things weeks in advance and see my friends once in a while, and then we have approximately sixty to seventy-five minutes for lunch and then we are on to the next thing. I am trying to shut off my rushing instinct for the time being, and it is working. Except when it comes to my writing. But I don’t mind that part so much. If my writing is the center that holds it all together, that’s just fine by me.

(01/10/12) | 2 Comments »