I feel like I’m going backwards with my daily project of writing every single day. Maybe backwards isn’t the right direction so much as in circling round into comfortable spaces. No one wants to find themselves floating in solipsism.
I’ve given myself a lot of flexibility in capturing a mood or a tidbit or a theme from the day and running with it. Interiority is a perfectly acceptable vantage for personal writing but I want to connect to a wider perspective with it.
But I don’t know if I’m progressing in any real direction with this experiment as of late.
I could be speaking from the August doldrums (it’s more August exhaustion as I’ve been working a lot). It’s possible I will have a streak of great essays just around the bend. But it’s safe to say that day isn’t today.