I am in love with that floor, and that sun porch, and the sand and seascape beyond. Other than that, I stopped by to report that as the world stands on the brink of war in Ukraine, I have reached my contracted 85,000 words for the book. I am over here trundling toward the finish line, with one, perhaps two chapters to go. It all gets a little easier once the first draft is done, because then we have the complete story arc, and my subject and I can engage to create a final draft that will feel emotionally true to her down to the smallest passing detail. I marvel that I have arrived here again. It always seems so impossible at the start. My agent wanted to know if she should resume putting my name forward for new projects. "Not yet," I said. I think might want—need—a moment to breathe, to reconnect with my non-writing life, a nerve-wracking desire to contemplate, much less indulge if you're a freelancer.
Sometimes, my daughter and I video chat to keep each other company while we work. She calls it "body doubling," which she explained is the term for when you need another working body in your field of view to help keep you focused. Yesterday, she had to conduct five interviews with candidates for a fundraising project position, her first time being the one who decides which applicants move on to round two in the hiring process. She FaceTimed me after the interviews to debrief with someone completely safe, her mama, before writing up her report. I screenshotted that photo of her when Munch clambered into her lap in response to commotion outside their window. Munch is a happy goofy boy but loud noises rattle him. My girl jokes she's the emotional support animal for her emotional support animal. She is entirely a dog person, and one hundred percent a Munch mom, so this might be her favorite role.