Contemporaneous: Chapters’ 6 & 7
6. I never knew when I went from somebody who enjoyed working, who looked forward to editing and writing, to somebody who worked to pay the bills, and looked forward to the weekend for some respite, and writing became a habit, like smoking, that I just kept doing because it had become so ingrained in my life. Once I get home, I lay on my bed, and try to let my mind wander. When I was younger – like in my twenties – I used to be able to just let go, and let my mind wander without focus or direction, without needing to explore any thought that cropped up,…
Contemporaneous: Chapters’ 2 & 3
2. “How was your day?” she asks me. I hate this question, although not because she asks it (although she knows how I dislike the question), but because my day was like the day before it, and the one before that, and the one before that. You get the idea. If anything different were to happen, anything spectacular, anything worthy of mentioning, then I’d mention it, but working as an editor in a small publisher doesn’t exactly offer the excitement of, say, working in the bomb squad. “The usual,” I tell her. I know she hates that answer because she’s a sharer. She’ll detail everything that happens throughout her day…
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