Frustrating, invisible. A summer basically reinventing the physics of time. Continual, perpetual, eternal lack of progress on my next book.
In June I thought: July will be for breaking the story, understanding the arcs. And then it was August and July had nothing to show for itself. I thought: Well OK time to buckle down, and August is half over.
A lot of what’s-the-point-of-anything-since-the-world-is-ending-anyway-itis. So: depression, sure. But I’m also not wrong! But that’s also not the point. The point is to keep going. The point is to just keep writing. To be accomplishing things, not to be accomplishing anything, particularly, but for the trick of accomplishment. The brain feeling like it exists for a reason. Either way I would keep writing, to the end. One thing has nothing to do with the other.
Still, a little progress, here and there, in the background, in the corners. I write Qannen because she’s my favorite character. Great at social media without feeling controlled by it. Enjoying her life online without feeling beholden to it. Everything I aspire towards.
I sit out behind the house in the shade and move some words around. A blog post. The end.