“is it that fucking hard to get fruit roll-ups?”

songs today: waves, folded light; brave day, tilly and the wall; how to survive a broken heart, ben lee; waist deep in the big muddy, richard shindell (pete seeger); the ocean, tegan and sara; this is why we fight, the decemberists.

I went to bed at 3 am and woke up at 7. I can tell I’ve had too much caffeine because my insides are quivering. I’ve made a list, and re-read a lot of notes. My new journal is slowly becoming a lived in mess. I keep staring at the clock, because I need to leave here at 6 to meet K for dinner. I’m filled with dread and with the realization that it has been a super long time since I’ve attempted to create fiction on purpose. I have literally thousands of scenes, of details, of lines, but I forgot how insanely hard it is to put that together into something that makes sense and is satisfying, especially when it feels so urgent, which right now, it does, but that doesn’t make writing it any easier. I feel a lot like there’s a window open, but only for now, and I’m jamming things under the sill to keep it from closing.

“my heart was fooled and I let it stay that way.” (jonathan ames)

songs today: idaho, josh ritter; blue and wonder, richard buckner; i love you, i do, miss erika davies; when the sun goes down on your street, ben gibbard; birth of serpents, the mountain goats; o new england, the decemberists; the sweetest thing, camera obscura.

I think it’s been 3 years this month since I wrote the first story in something that is now completely different. I’m itching right this minute to do something new, but somehow, to still maintain he integrity of the old. I’m being super vague, I know. Sometimes writing is hard to explain without sounding crazy, and you have to decide which one is more important. I have no problem with sounding crazy, obviously.

So tomorrow I have this plan to go and hole up and write the shit out of this new thing, but also letting it be what it’s going to be-a short short, a longer story, whatever. At this point, the integrity of what I’m thinking about is more important than length.

(Also, I’m planning on recording some of my fiction next week for a podcast, which, if it works out, will be six episodes long and posted here. Get excited.)