The third time around
I should realize that starting a new book is hard. I have written many essays in the last few months, taught a billion classes, given another billion talks, but am circling the Mary’s or whatever we’re going to call it. Today, for example, I engaged in purging behavior. Throwing out old clothes. Tempted to root out unnecessary spices from the kitchen cabinet, but restrained myself so that I could dilly dally the day away sitting in the same room with the manuscript, but not cracking it open. I wonder if that counts. Granted, I only allowed myself fifteen minutes of cleaning. But maybe I should have allotted the whole day to this activity. I would probably have more of a sense of accomplishment then I do right now. Also, I have eaten a lot of toast. And in another hour I have to get in my car and go give another talk on Woman (I am grateful to have the opportunity), but really should be dreaming about the Marys.