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What I keep returning to is this: behind the construction, behind the careful arrangement, something sits that will not be argued into existence. You catch it the way you catch a sound in another room. You stop, not sure whether you heard it. By the time you move toward it, it has either gone or…
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I write books that I would like to read. There is a purity to that, a kind of monastic dedication, a turning away from clamouring expectations. Instead, I aim for the little gaps in my experience, the haunting spaces that keep me up at night, my eyes open and fixed on the ceiling, trying to…
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a way of marking time while the world slips past unrecorded and unremarked. To transcribe this strange, flickering sonata is not to control it; the act of writing does not still the chaos, nor does it grant any special dominion over what passes before my eyes. If anything, the attempt to seize these elusive fragments…
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as heat, trembling with the fever of their uncertainty. Each letter is a mirage that flickers on the horizon of your attention, and every sentence is a shimmer that promises, then withholds, consolation. You have always suspected that language is less a bridge than a hallucination, and as you read, you watch the letters pulse…
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The hardest sentence I ever wrote was the one I wrote before I knew I was writing. The coffee cooling on the desk, the cursor blinking at the margin, the irritable shuffle of pages that refuse to hold a line. You sense the outline of something, and in every gesture you make, every tap of…
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Before it had a name, before it had a story, before gravity made up its mind, there was only waiting, and then, without ceremony or permission, a single drop let go. Beginning: You know those strange moments when you’re caught between what’s already happened and what might come? I am sitting by the window, watching…
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The sentence exists before it is written, somewhere, pressing toward form… The world forgets what it finds inconvenient. This has been observed. A thing is present, then it is absent, and the space it occupied closes over without a mark. The knowledge of this does not make the writing easier or harder. Eventually, it sits…