Ramblings on revision

I am revising a story about two men traveling to the coast in search of a magical cure to the disease killing one of them. In this story the forest is alive: a tangled character that is supposed to represent the dark and gnarly parts of their present situation but also the lush and blooming parts of their past.

3 for practice.

I am writing a short story nobody will ever read about harsh winter blizzards, lacquered Matryoshka dolls, and a man who weaves trauma out of men’s bodies.

The Antidote: Karen Russell

Bits that I loved, some small scattered thoughts about the novel as a whole.

4 seasons

I am convinced it is the only thing we truly own. It is the thing we make for ourselves with each new hour and, when I gaze upon that, when I travel my fingers across its ragged edges, it is always begging or pleading. It demands attention. Someone to need it. To love it. To own it.

Nothing left to say

in America you can suffer a mortal wound on a Wednesday afternoon and be expected back to work after lunch.

Thoughts on a failed short story: part two

Sam+

Cause I was lonely here and it's lonely still In the rugged country where the weeds grow fierce Quicker than the crop I keep running from In this rugged country.

[GUEST POST] Saturday Sketchbook: Repeating Patterns & Perfection

Sometimes when I have completely run out of ideas, or interesting places, or thoughts, or anger, I instead draw the same couple of patterns and lines over and over again. Layering them on top of each other in familiar and unfamiliar ways, deciding which color looks best combined with the other, drawing the same Olive cartoon shape.

Tops from a top

The top things I've consumed this year, since that's what this newsletter was originally about.