I had a proposal to write today. So. I gutted the green house and tore down the south facing wall. Laid insulation in the floor of the new studio. Split and stacked half a cord of gnarled, mean juniper. Ran. Cooked dinner. Read. Sent a handful of emails.

I love writing. I love the stories and the language. The words. But the desk is hard. The blank page stares back, teeth showing. This is the work.

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