The kind of work that makes you forget where you are.


The other day I spent at least 2 hours typing out old journal entries and I am now certain I need to make the chapbook. I’ve never been more moved by my own writing. It is a strange experience, to re-read the broken parts of you. I am kind of loving it. I have been seeing a strength in myself that I was not previously tuned in to. Moments of truth and longing, reflection for what I’ve lived and the people I have met. It’s incredible, being surprised by yourself in a life where very little surprises you anymore. It feels odd to be so struck by a moment in time, so moved by how you processed something. I feel much respect towards my own guttural transformation. I’m incredible. I finally get it. I see it now. Even in the worst, smallest parts of me.

I’ve also felt more inclined to experiment with shutter based writing because that might fit this bits and pieces of memory stuff. That’s all it’s ever been with non-fiction, pieces of your memory you have yet to sort out. I’m very intrigued with writing a new shards of memory piece, probably a longer non-fiction piece that uses the * as a shutter opening on a moment in time and then closing and moving on to the next. So bear with me as I figure it all out.

For anyone interested in the shutter tool, I used it years ago in college when I wrote my most challenging, yet accomplished non-fiction piece.

“Persevere with some writing that you may not like at first-especially when the writing is highly recommended by somebody you respect. Study your own writing against this background of ongoing reading, this project of listening and learning, this understanding that the best anybody can achieve will fail, will open rather than close doors.” John Edgar Wideman, Looking at Emmet Till


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