This time last year I think we were still unpacking from our move into the coach house, but now it feels like we've always been here. I'm experiencing a bit of historical vertigo though because it seems as if there's no way 2010 is almost at an end. Summer both feels like it ended last week and like it never happened. Perspective swims in and out of focus, though I think that's more a byproduct of my tendency to make sense of both recent and distant past by studying moments too minutely when I should be taking a step back to take in the canvas as a whole.I've worked entire short stories off a particular sentence or fragment I thought was either particularly melodic and rather ingenious only to find that at the end it is the genesis phrase that gets cut in order to benefit the story as a whole. This is not something a younger writer is usually aware or capable of.
It's a good feeling, realizing I am capable of this.
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