Today it’s very coppery and auburn outside. No rain but no blue anywhere either. Maybe that’s still to come. And today I’m taking it easy: a little bit of this and a little bit of that.
October’s almost gone–each day zooming by like a page I’ve turned in a book. Underline this. Try to remember.
Yesterday I finished my essay. I printed the next section of the novel. I wrote the letter. I accomplished.
Today I’m listening to Mumford & Sons and The Mountain Goats. Over and over again. I’m putting discarded drafts in the shredder. I’m collecting my sticky notes and making a list. I’m responding to comments (sorry to be so late), checking in on Twitter and Facebook. I’m re-shelving the stack of books I used for my essay on narrative distance in beginnings.
Jim Harrison’s “The Woman Lit by Fireflies” slides off my stack and opens to these words:
A half-dozen fireflies had gathered in the darkness around her green cave, and the tiny beams seemed to trace the convolutions of her thought.
Yesterday was filled with purpose. Today I’m letting one thing lead to another…