I study a lot, and I write a lot. This is why I am at my desk, typing away at 2:44 a.m.
But I want to be in charge of my own schedule. I want to move to New York City and get a job as a barista, but my real job would be to write for children, and write for my mother, and write for those who live in trailer parks in the Ozarks, and write for those who live on the Upper East Side, and write for myself. And I want to read. I want to read Faulkner and Momaday, and I want to read about Lake Wobegon and Mount Judge. And then I’ll continue to create my own Fisher Hill until 5:00 a.m., but it won’t matter because my shift at the coffeehouse will start 2:00 p.m. I want to be poor, at least for a while, so I have something to write about.
But now I’ve got to finish transcribing my interview with Dr. Winslow so I can add quotes for the article due tomorrow. And now I want to sleep, but I can’t.