Raking, raking all the time. The pile of leaves.
Smooth them out, but then start raking again.
Do that with the sentence,
with the words,
but also with paragraphs and pages and chapters,
with whole books…
Purify, strengthen every detail that counts.
Certain forces or obsessions, or preoccupations, come up with frequency as I work.
It’s like every time I sit down to write I’m doing the same thing. A set of particular preoccupations.
But what are they?
