February 2026: Jet Lagged

My wife and I got back from Japan a few days ago. We went for our 25th anniversary and to visit our daughter, who’s been living abroad.

Since our return, my sleep schedule is a mess. The first night home, I crashed hard, slept for two hours, and then was up all night. The second night seemed like I was back on track, but the next few nights I was up until 2 or 3 am waiting to fall asleep, and it’s thrown my days off completely.

I feel January was a case of jet lag as well. My brain and body have been struggling to adjust to my new reality of writing as a solo career, and it hasn’t been all smooth sailing.

The New Year

At the start of the month, I wasn’t the most productive.

Teaching had just ended, and I was playing catch-up after the holiday season. I was dealing with my sister’s estate, making trips up north to visit my mother, and preparing for the Japan trip.

I was also feeling lost and lazy. I was struggling to get stories on the page and falling behind on my schedule to publish a new piece each week.

I began avoiding the work—video games, YouTube, and Instagram acting as useful distractions. It wasn’t until the unfinished book with my writing partner weighed on me enough to get my ass in gear.

However, I still wasn’t writing my own stuff, and that was a problem.

Rethinking my Schedule

I’d committed to publishing one piece a week and had been missing those deadlines since December. I was failing myself and those who had supported my work.

I was struggling to get words on the page, and when I did write something, I always needed more time to get it right. The writing needed longer to bake.

I knew I could write quickly. A few years ago, I wrote a story a day, but that work always felt rushed out of the creative oven too soon.

I decided to change the schedule. Instead of a story a week, I’d aim for 1-3 stories a month. Of course, this came with a trade-off, and I decided to lower my prices to $3/month.

I also felt bad for those who’d already subscribed to me, so I cancelled their current subscription and offered them free months as an apology for not delivering on what I’d promised.

It was messy and clunky, but it felt like the right choice.

“Driving, I See the Bodies”

I published only one thing in January, a poem called Driving, I See the Bodies, but it’s a good example of the longer process my writing takes.

It started from a dream I’d had. I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote it down. I sat on it for a few days before writing down some lines while I walked.

The images were full of fear and running from the bodies. It felt like they were coming for me. The whole piece was messy and unformed, and it took me a while to distill it to its essence.

Over the next week and a half, I kept working on it, and the poem evolved. At some point, they were with me in the car, and I felt like their surreal, weird nature had engulfed me. I was howling with them.

Then it clicked. This wasn’t about fear. It was about not wanting to live in fear, especially in a world where there’s so much to fear, where fear is used as a tactic.

By the final draft, I was lying near the bodies under the northern lights. Not terrified. Simply present.

Japan and tanka

While on our trip to Japan, I learned about tanka poetry.

Its form is a tight five-line structure with 5, 7, 5, 7, and 7 syllables per line. It required tight compression of words. I loved how stripped down and specific the form was.

Over the next few days, I wrote a few and loved how they could capture moments of my trip and moods—like mini stories. The tight form also meant I could write one in a morning, in a notebook, while sitting on a train or having coffee.

Unlike the 1000-word stories or 150-word poems that needed weeks to distill, I could finish a tanka quickly. Something felt unlocked.

Return

So instead of returning from Japan scaled back, I was coming home with abundance. Not only could I meet my initial plan, but I could possibly exceed it.

I decided to rethink my recent pricing change. I didn’t want to be wishy-washy with the old pricing, so I decided instead to add tiers—offering the same content for everyone but letting readers choose how much they wanted to support the work.

So now there is a $3 tier, which makes sense in this economy; a $5 on which was my original price, and I added a $7 tier for anyone feeling extra generous.

Adjusting to the new timezone

With the new writing, it feels like the jet lag is clearing. New poems are coming, and I’ll have some new stories when they’re ready.

Thank you for continuing to read these letters.

Until next time,

David

PS - I keep meaning to let paid subscribers know that I’ve also added the ability to get stories and poetry delivered to your email inbox if you want that. Check your account settings to turn it on.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​