Sunday morning in September

It is delicious, waking up early and with a strong cup of coffee reading OLIVE KITTERIDGE. Sadly, I'm almost finished with it. The thing that really stands out about the stories is how she makes you care about people you have probably had disdain for in real life. I think that I sometimes have the urge to write characters I admire or respect immediately. It's still a personal thing. When my first agent told me that she didn't like Kate Banner in HUMMINGBIRD HOUSE, I realized ours was not a match made in heaven. So not everyone is going to love the characters I love. But I think -- and I see this in the work of other writers, too -- that there's the desire to make a more perfect life, to let the character grow and  be wise in perhaps unrealistic ways. But Elizabeth Strout doesn't do that. The characters remain mean and uncompromisingly self-centered. Human, in other words. 

Finally, after all the labor of moving, my natural routines are emerging, and they are routines that have grounded me all of my writing life. I wake up between 4 and 5. I feed the cat and make a cup of coffee. It's very strong coffee. I read a little and then begin writing after the caffeine kicks in. Last night, I got into bed a little early -- around 8:30 -- and I was able to return to the story I'm working on. The stream of writing, thinking about writing, wading in that water all the time, has been slow to come back. I've been in a dry season. Now it feels good.