December update

It’s the end of the year as we know it, and I feel fine. (Mostly.)

Novel progress

Things have progressed a bit slowly this month, since I prioritized a lot of family and holiday time. However! I’ve had some successful sprints, and actually ended up making some edits that feel good—mostly hammering out inconsistencies in tone. The plot milestone I’d hoped to reach by this point remains juuuuust a little past my grasp, but I’m closer than I was before, and that counts for something.

The majority of the novel work done in November has been behind-the-scenes, long-term stuff that may or may not pay off. I put in a couple grant applications that, if they (fingers crossed) pay off, will allow me to afford a freelance editor’s fee next spring and attend a writing retreat next summer. Funnily enough, working on these applications actually got me excited about some other stories, some of which I’ve been sitting on for nearly as long as this novel project: one about a sentient ballistics dummy, one about a literal family tree, one about a time-traveling actor-slash-private investigator. I’m letting myself write towards these projects, too, because that’s just how it is sometimes—although I am finding that it helps me get a handle on my own tone and style when I switch between pieces like that.

I’ll find out about those applications early next year. So in the meantime, I’m concentrating on just writing—as much as I can, as often as I can, whatever it may be. With a lot of the business-y moving pieces sorted for the moment, writing is where my attention needs to be.

Other work

I’m not choosing to share excerpts of those stories I mentioned (yet), but I did actually end up writing a poem on my birthday, composed mostly in my head as my dog and I came to the tail end of a dawn hike. Not sure if this is the poem’s final form, but I did want to share it, because I haven’t written one in a good long while.

Inside the dawn's dry slant, saguaro spines
turn to glowing fur. A host of haloed mantles on a hill.
Fine dust dyes the light like a patient's blood, making visible
what isn't. I've never tried to do anything else. Behind the light
wells more light. Outside the sound of these words
the shape of what I mean to say to you
is expanding in all directions.

Life at large

My little sister’s wedding could not have been a more beautiful or fitting day; I felt every human emotion possible in the span of 24 hours, plus a couple emotions that I might have borrowed from whales or grasshoppers or somebody. I get to explore some caves with my partners tomorrow (I love caves). Lately the mountains in the evening remind me more and more of a movie set—something about the flatness of the blue behind them. Taz the dog bravely survived her monthly bath. I’m thinking a lot about family. I am behind on Christmas presents, but then again, who isn’t? (If you’re all set already, don’t tell me.)

With a true warmth,

Rachel

(a partial catalogue, pt. vii)

• my partner Rye has been setting one of my favorite poems to music; I can’t share that, but I can point you to the poem: “At North Farm,” by John Ashberry
• delighted by this Robert Plant & Alison Krauss song that popped up while I was driving