In search of story

Connections: September 4

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“Move over!” “YOU move over!” “I was here first!”

Ah, September in the herb garden. The madding crowd.

Yesterday I ran away to the library. I had to write. More specifically, I had to tweak something I’d written a while ago. Just tweaks — nothing to it, yes? My writer’s brain was this herb corner: crowded and madding. The words pushed and shoved. I wrote and wrote. And crossed out and crossed out.

After an hour, I had twenty-eight words that possibly maybe perhaps were the right ones. Why, with such thick growth, is there such a meager, tentative harvest?


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