poetry, shopping lists, journals, letters, cookbooks, novels. This is for you.
I’ve been here, mostly writing, sometimes folding laundry, often staring out at the frozen world, trying to remember to eat lunch. I sent a big stack of pages into my editor last week, and an hour later, Sadie broke her arm and Rosie got the flu. They’re both okay now, and Sadie’s proving to be a brave wonder (as if I didn’t already know). Now I get to wash Sadie’s hair for her, just in the time I was feeling like she was getting so big, she didn’t need me so much. In the spaces in between, I push away from the desk and read a few pages of this, or this, or this. I’ve been researching the part of my family I don’t know. I’ve been thinking I should probably get to England one of these days. I’m a little scattered. I try to keep the bowl filled with citrus, so I can walk into the kitchen and have something quick to do. I slice the top and tail clear off, and trim the thin or hefty walls, depending on the variety. I pull the sections from their pith, or I slice the whole fruit in star-like rounds. I beg a few leaves from the mint plant in the windowsill and rip them into tiny bits, then I let it snow with a little sugar. It sits in its juice while the water boils for coffee, and that’s it. It’s 3-ingredient sunshine.
A few links, for those who might be writing.
This, on writing even though there will be comments, from the wise and clear-as-a-bell Dani Shapiro.
And while we’re on the subject, this, on praise and blame.
And oh, oh, oh! this on writing for our heroes.
This video with George Saunders. (I know, I know, you’re writing! But this will help- I promise.)
This, from Tara, on not dabbling.
And even if you’ve read this before, it’s worth a reread, on writing like a motherfucker.
Happy Thursday, friends. Hope the sun is shining in, even if it’s only the citrus kind.