We've reached the sweet spot of summer earlier than usual. I don't know what it is about this season that leads me to believe in possibilities, but I’m feeling it now. Magic seems like it’s on the horizon and creeping nearer.
As the heat arrives, we transition from three vagabonds to homebodies. We walk in the woods twice daily and take naps. I read lighter, more fanciful prose and pen most of my serious writing.
None of us do well in the heat and humidity, so it's a perfect stretch of months to dedicate myself to spending time at my writing desk.
As you've noticed, I've been quiet while settling into a free-swinging rhythm of blissful creativity. A week was needed to surrender to the enchantment. I now find myself in an exciting yet peaceful place while inhaling Emerson's belief in the infinitude of man. Well, this man, at least. This storyteller.
For the last few years, I've held onto two books I've wanted to write. One is my first novel, and the o…
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