waveforms

Each day, I sit at my desk and return to work on my novel because I won’t concede to a future where the stories we tell do not matter. Each day, this small act of opting in. We didn’t choose this moment, so uniquely hostile and extraordinarily frightening, but we are in it now, and there are still choices. Fear means to keep you from reaching out into darkness, but if we’re all here together inside it, hands just like yours will reach back. Everything we do is a testament to what we still believe is possible, and in the limited time we’ve always had, it has always been this way. If no one has told you, it matters, you matter. Some days, this feels less convincing than others and those day, I will still choose my desk and my novel, and when that particular work is done, there’s still more to do, more choices to make. I ask what supports life and what is life-supporting. I answer in how I treat others, my community, in how I treat myself along the way.

Just this small letter for now. The story I’m writing demands my attention and I do not want to keep you from yours, from the place we will carve for their telling.

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