Step on it

When I was in college, my sister lived in an apartment in Manhattan that overlooked the on ramp to the Lincoln Tunnel. This is where we learned that every day dozens of people start down that ramp and then suddenly realize they don't want to go to New Jersey after all. That they'd made a mistake. What happens next? They put their car in reverse and step on it, whizzing backwards, desperate to undo.

I've been trying to remind myself these days that reversing course in writing isn't always easy, but there is less potential for bodily injury than on a highway or in a pandemic. That although we are being conditioned to assess every risk, every step, every breath, we are still free on the page.

I hope you are still finding space and energy for creative efforts. If you are ready to disappear into the wonderland of your imagination, may I recommend my novel workshop this fall. If you're more of a realist and want to grapple with the truth, there will be more nonfiction classes coming in October. Stay tuned. We're all on the edge of our seats, waiting to see what happens next. Till then, take care and drive safe.

J.