Letter to My Readers

My Readers,

I just put my head down for a second and when I looked up, four years had passed.  How does that happen?

I often say writing is like working in a coal mine.  I go underground.  Sometimes friends shout to me from above.  I nod and hum, and this fools them into thinking I am listening, but I am only trying to make them go away.

Writing is a deep descension into some place that doesn’t exist in linear time.  Once I had a dream that informed me we think of time as linear because we are only looking at it as if contemplating the skin of water.  But it is in motion, has depth and dimension.  This was made clear to me in this dream, and I continue to believe this is so. 

And so, though four linear years have moved on since I last wrote to you, my readers, I have in actuality been writing to you every time I pick up my pen.  My message is in the story coming up for publication this fall, on September 7th, Martita, I Remember You, a story I began back in the early 90’s, that I abandoned and came back to finally.   It could not have been finished beforehand as it needed the long view.

And I am excited to announce I have a new collection of poetry.  This book, as of yet untitled, will be ready for you to read next year, 2022, autumn.  I am writing poetry daily these days.  It is the best meditation I know.

The rains of the Mexican summer have arrived, leaving the sky a luminous pewter. It’s that hour before the sky lets go its light. My dogs are almost all asleep. Let me savor this stillness. It’s a day made for listening and writing. I recommend we take time to do both. — SC

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