The Projects Living in My Head

I see glimpses of them all the time—the stories, books I could write if I had the time, patience, heart to write them. Yesterday I had one, but I've since lost it. I hope it will come back to me. This morning while trying to get up there were a few just echoing in the back of my mind, reminding me that they're there. But really what I should do is finish other things before starting new ones, right? While on an island on the southern tip of Manhattan yesterday, my mother reminded me of my first novel, my grad school thesis, and told me she thought I should go back to that. She said:

I read it in two days. I couldn't put it down. Well, even beyond the fact that it was about me.

I said it would need a lot of work. Incriminating details changed? she wanted to know. And I said, sure, that, but also a major rewrite, 250 pages cut, and beyond. I may as well start from scratch.

Which I might…someday.

And there's the script still hanging—I should say: nothing at all to do with my mother—and when I go outside this morning I will cross the street corner that inspired it.

And the one I was thinking about on Friday.

And the one I've been told to write.

And the stories, so many left to finish.

And the big one I've been trying to write for years.

You get my drift. It's endless, trying to decide what to work on when in between projects. It will come to me—I just need to be sure to have a pen and paper when it does so I can get it all down.