Into the lost lands.

(This picture was from the October 2018 trip to Iceland, gazing into inaccessible heart of the island. There is a mountain out there, silent, I imagine, except for wind.)

This is (for me) the end of the second week of classes, but things are still very harried. I end up rewriting all my classes every semester, usually from the ground up, and one of these classes is still being written. Add graduate admissions season and the needs of my existing grad students and letters of recommendation, and this and that, and it is very hard to have any space for writing. 

But after seven years at this job, I have gotten used to these rhythms, where the clots are and why they happen. 

Last semester was a dream: fantastic class and lots of time to do my own work. I knew that my takeaway (apart from a bunch of stories, yay) was some new tools for writing in the midst of life. So: this week as much chaos and anarchy as I need to organize things; next week, back to the sphinx, and on to Vellitt -- because I finally, FINALLY know that she does next. 


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Writings