First thing for me this day, I shoved my right little toe into the immovable whicker basket by my bed. Still pains me crazy. Want to eat something, but not from this cafeteria. That Cab last night, still fiddling with the impression it me left. Beautiful cruise to campus this morning. Wine country shades, air, scenes. Saw the hot air balloon hovering above Napa as I eased a left onto Streblow. Would be an amazing, and remarkably anomalous, place to write, in that floating basket. Felt the same yesterday as I looked out at the Napa Valley from the winery’s terrace (interview location). Always thinking about this Craft, words with life and worlds.
Kelly, she won’t leave me alone. Don’t want her too. I see her ms as a 150-200 page effort. Not too long, as I don’t want readers to tire of her. And I don’t want her to tire of my pen’s connection to her days, moments.
Arranged the spread pages into files, or potential projects. My cellar, or library, becoming more methodical. Eradicates uneasiness, stress, the alignment of my pages, scribble-laced sittings. No more focus on word amount. You won’t see a number in a title from me again, hopefully.