Returning to Joy

Hello everyone,

December didn't go as planned. I had missteps and didn't get all the work done I wanted. But it also gave me clarity about what comes next—both creatively and practically. Here's what I learned, and where I'm heading in 2026.

What happened

Last month didn’t go as planned.

It was the end of my semester, so I needed to put extra time into the class. I focused on students and marking their assignments and final projects while pushing everything else aside: the gym, walks, my own writing. Since I didn't have a buffer of material, I fell behind, and nothing got published.

By mid-month, I was done teaching. I'd hoped to catch up on writing then, but Christmas pulled my attention in different directions. The season was busy—shopping, suppers, time with family and friends. I prioritized being there over the work.

I did eventually publish one story, Polaroid. It's an old one that I'd been hoping to rework—it never felt finished when I first shared it. I tried to get it polished and out before Christmas, but couldn't get it right. I came back to it on the 30th and released the new version. After such a long gap between stories, it felt good to put something out there.

What else I've been up to

I did a deep dive on Brian Evenson's short story collection Song for the Unravelling of the World, which I loved. His stories captivated me with their weird turns and dream logic. They felt Lynchian and unsettling, with moments that would suddenly veer in unexpected directions.

What struck me most was learning about his writing process. He doesn't plan his short stories. He sits down with just a vague idea or a first line and sees where it goes—a joy in the unknowing. I usually plan when writing with my partner, but when I write alone, the plan loses all energy, so I want to try his method more.

He switches between forms as he drafts—writing by hand, then typing it out—something I want to try. Switching forms forces me to slow down and actually notice the words instead of skipping over passages I think I already know. It's extra work, but it's a way to jolt my lazy editing brain into paying attention.

Maybe some of his process—sitting with not knowing, discovering as I go—will bring that joy back to my own writing, which I could use right now.

Heading into the new year

December was my last month of teaching—hopefully forever. I got lost over the past few years, caught between marking other's writing and my own ambitions. Losing my sister brought me back to myself, reminded me of what matters.

The year ahead will be challenging. My mother is 93 and no longer recognizes me. But I have something now that I haven't had before: time. Real time, not writing squeezed between other obligations, but actual space to build the life I planned.

I have two focuses. First, finishing Wolfe's Blood with my writing partner—a project that's been hanging over us for years. Second, pursuing the work I outlined in August: writing stories, taking them to readings, building something that's just mine.

For too long, I put this off, telling myself I'd get to it eventually. Now I'm saying yes to it.

Thank you for following along. I hope you'll stick with me this year.

Until next time,
David