saving the past: scanning photos and memories

For months now, I haven’t felt like blogging. I write every day. Privately. Nothing I feel like sharing or showing to anyone.

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evolving

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WHEN I BEGAN TYPING THIS (months ago), I didn’t want to overthink or over-edit it, but just type about that thing I was thinking about before I sat down. But every time I sit down to write, like right now, my brain turns to slush.

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Chapter 8. Grieving

Back in 2023, while proofreading the final copy of Willower (as a reader instead of a writer), I was wondering the whole way through, How did I do this? I know how I did it, obviously, but I mean how did I do it? Does that make sense? A lot of the text was written when I was in a much darker place, in another world. I’d worked for years, sitting with Sam, and we were writing together. Now what?

Publishing a book, I’ve learned, isn’t always celebratory. It felt more like, What do I do now? I guess it’s time to reflect on where to migrate to next.

about this chapter

Chapter 8. Grieving moves through the first year after Sam’s death (2007).

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