Drafting, pt. 1

Let’s* call this first in a series on small updates about the book.

Time: 2:42 p.m., EST
Music: “Our Breaths in Winter” | Caspian
Mood: a tenseness in the chest like a shaking fist

It is technically spring break, and anyone who’s a teacher knows this is definitely a student holiday. And even they should be working, but they still retain that under-the-umbrella mindset that says work-shirking only results in a slight hit to the GPA. Being that I am in academic purgatory–a grad student and teacher–I’m having difficulty with the boundaries of work vs. art vs. free time. N, my wife, took the day off in order to enjoy part of my break with me. But I’m hardly enjoying it. I have not opened my book draft yet today, and have only graded one of twenty student essays that should really be all finished by post-break.

Still in pajamas, I turn to writing an update about the draft, instead of updating the draft. Basically, I continue to perpetuate the self-inflicted myth of community implied by the contracted let’s.**

* – Again, that contraction assumes I’m not alone in this thing, which, according to my view counter, is not accurate. So, let’s let go of letting this be important.

** – I would be lying if I said I didn’t contemplate ending this let’s exploration with the maudlin statement: what’s missing is u.

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About bp

I'm writing a book. It's called, Wake, Sleeper. My writing revolves around this idea of art: attempts to recover what is lost.
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