Friday: a good day to think about finishing some things so as to be starting others. It's a few weeks off, but I think that's what Good Friday was about.
This morning I finished "Coffee @Night." 3400 words. It's for Become Your Own Superhero: Intrepid Exceptions to Modern Fiction.
I take a big long drink of my night coffee, as the fire crackles and communes, some of the juice from the venison—because them boys can shoot—we just ate still on my chin, a rill of red in the old beard shadow.
Then I finished "The Roller." 1700 words. It's for The Solution to the World's Problems: Surprising Tales of Relentless Joy.
Meanwhile, tomorrow is coming closer. Another chance to try again, she has decided, which the roller anticipated and understands. It’s why it rolls when it does, and why it’s welcomed, which actually says a lot.
And then I finished "An Aversion to Blood," which I had been working on since November. 2400 words. It's for The Ghost Grew Legs: Stories of the Dead for the More or Less Living.
It was a happiness that I’d somehow not taken from her yet, which I was sure to take in time. Diminish. To look at someone and want to keep yourself from them because of how much you love them is to not know how to live.
To create every day is to chop wood. To chop wood every day is to create.