This has been a good week for writing. I've produced some drafts that feel new to me: in their storytelling moves, in their use of repetition, in the solidity of their endings. Today, as I shift into work overdrive, I'm feeling as if I haven't wasted these few days of unexpected freedom . . . though often, when I'm in the midst of writing days, I feel as if I am getting nothing much done. 

So classwork this morning: then a long midday drive to school: then back north to the city for errands, housework, dinner prep . . . I'll almost be like a normal going-to-work person. How strange.

By the way: I'm reading at the Curtis Memorial Library in Brunswick this Sunday at 1 p.m.--part of the town's annual Longfellow Days celebration. Maybe I'll see you there.