Last night, I mailed my revised hipster chapter to my dissertation advisors and to some other people I thought might be interested in reading it. Today, I’ve been feeling intellectually lazy and hung over.
I’m cleansing the mental palate by reading Charles Johnson’s 1999 novel, Dreamer, a fictionalized rendition of the last two years of Martin Luther King’s life as told by one of his young associates. It’s a quick read and an excellent novel, and it’s inspiring me to dive back into fiction-writing, which I’ve neglected doing for a while.
I’m teaching a creative writing course for Stanford’s EPGY program in Singapore for two weeks, starting next week, so I’ll probably use my spare time after class to work on my novel-in-progress, Hamsterstan. I’ve written about 13,000 of an anticipated 90,000 words. It’s funny to think that I take a vacation from writing… by writing. But that’s the shape of my life at the moment. I can’t complain.