it's funny. i've often told my students that all that matters is the piece the poem the story the essay the thing you make. you must do what the story wants. what the story demands is more important than anything. but i'm not sure i've ever really done that. until now. i have been ruthless. i hacked the hell out of her and petted her and pushed her out into a green garden my mother's garden swarming with the blue moths that only come out in the morning.
my hands have held up and i need to not do anything to the book today but i cannot stand to not peek in to touch it again to run my hands through its hair again. i didn't know i would love her so much. i didn't know she would be gnashing her teeth while also laughing a lot, so broken so full of joy.
i emailed the agent last night. and of course i hope she gets back to me right away. but i must be patient. i must slide under the water and blow my breath out, not hold it in.
and the novel! god bless the novel. god bless me and god bless god thank you thank you i have the novel. to jump into. it is going to be glorious. i am going to dive in deep and stay there i am going to be a fish. every day i will dive into Lake Estelle and stay under the freezing water. for as long as i can stand.
'do whatever you do and do it well'