In January, I rise from bed at 7:45 A.M. 7:45 is earlier than I would yank myself away from the duvet in hotter months, say June or July. I tend to the tedious and necessary things first: I brush my teeth, wash my face, stretch my body, quiet my mind. I take the water that I have chilled in the fridge and drink it down in two or three large gulps. I refill it and carry the fresh water back to my bedroom, to my desk, which is deliberatively barren save for the literary journals that rest next to my left elbow, a note that reads ‘decision’ and another that says ‘trust your instinct,’ and a pen that fits most particularly in the curve of my hand. I sit down and I light a candle. And then I write.
Published: Shape Shift, The Identity Issue, February 2016