a place to think

(the feeling of writing a book)

In the sleepless hours before dawn, I become convinced that all is terrible. My book chapter, my Substack drafts, my notebooks…it was a mistake, I tell myself, to believe that I could write. In the darkness, fear looms large. I know by now the remedy for these restless, swirling thoughts — at first light, before I have even drunk a cup of coffee, I take…