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Well, there’s a kind of space that’s not really connected to anything like my age or life-status. What I’m looking for is fun. You could also call it a certain energy—or a deep-well—but whatever you call it, it’s just the space where, when your mind goes there, you don’t get filled with dread. Where instead you go, “Oh, that. That’ll be fun.” And that’s still the same for me. I can remember way back when I was writing CivilWarLand, this all was a big revelation to me—to be able to shuck off that big backpack with all those conceptual or academic expectations. To be able to see that there’s a person on the other end of these stories. So all I’m trying to do is honor that person’s attention with my attention. But since she’s not in the room I have to honor her with what I put on the page so that when it comes off the page, she’ll feel like: Oh, there’s a person here talking to me. It sounds really simple and it was actually. It was just this little mental move. There’s a moment when you become aware that you’re carting around a lot of bullshit ideas and the move is the consent that you make to wriggle free and drop them. When you’re able to just see writing as this simple dialogue and you say: I consent to my role as an intimate partner in this exchange.
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