It’s been a fertile week conversationally. Circumstances and an overflowing psyche forced me to abandon my usually rigorous schedule of writing 2 hours each morning into finding scraps of time when I can. And suddenly creativity abounds, I’m nourishing ideas and projects to keep me busy for actual literal years.
What we found in my great-grandmother’s things, 20 years afterher passing.
A deeper dive into the aftermath of the arson murders at the Up Stairs Lounge. A pal and I attended the fiftieth anniversary last year, and can’t stop talking about it.
Inappropriate therapists. I’ve had ‘em. You’ve had ‘em. I have a lot to sort through.
--the weed guy
--the boring one
--the needy one
--the BFF
And, this series of tweets. Got almost no attention (understandably, as Helene bore down and the VP debate bubbled and fizzled). But it’s on my mind. The ole inside baseball of literary fiction, success for thee (the chosen, the moneyed) but not for me.
I still have a day job, 2 volunteer jobs and a part-time commitment to dog walking for an ailing neighbor. So, more to come.
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