Monday, May 7, 2012
My head is full of a book I'm writing. I feel all verve-y and alive, terribly attached to the notion of putting all these thoughts about memoir making down. I stand on one rung of a ladder, pulling myself up. I peer over the hedge of what I've written already and think, But, oh. There is so much more.
I dangle. I stretch.
Meanwhile, I read the work of the extraordinary Patricia McCormick. I will have something to say about her supreme talents tomorrow.
Until tomorrow, then.