i’ve been thinking about firsts.  to first write, to first send it out, to have a story accepted.  to eat a fresh nectarine, the juices dripping down my chin into the folds of my neck.  to talk to a real writer.  to take a weekend away from my life.  to stay up all night writing. to fall in love.   to do anything else but write in order to relieve the boredom of writing.  to write something so truthful that it makes me cry, to write something so shitty that it makes me cry even harder.  to fall in lust.  to quit writing.  to stay up all fucking night missing a character.  to switch to creative non-fiction and back to fiction. to ditch a project that isn’t working. to drive too fast to the edge of an island, stare at the ocean and think about home.


some of my firsts could be my last.