suspended animation
I said to K the other day that the things I've been fantasizing about most frequently in isolation are a haircut, and getting to pet a friend's dogs.
"Not human contact?" she asked.
I remember, of course, the last person I hugged: it was the woman who was running the writing retreat I was on in early March. By the time I left it was clear that things were bad and getting worse, and I felt weird about hugging her, but there didn't seem to be a polite way to decline, and also we'd been living in the same house for a week, so, like, whatever. By the time I got into San Francisco that night, residents of the city had been ordered to shelter in place. I sat on JB's couch and dug my toes into his thigh, aware that the length of my legs between us was still not exactly enough space.
The thing about getting my hair cut and lying on T's floor, letting the dogs sniff my hands, lick my ankles, snuggle on my chest, is that they feel like simple things to want. I can imagine shelter-in-place being lifted and going down the driveway to my hairdresser's backyard-- she works out of her house-- and the two of us wearing masks. An hour together, maybe slightly less. I can imagine walking into T's house and giving myself over to Sparrow and Wren for five or ten minutes.
The part I can't quite wrap my mind around is what happens next. The part where I get up and-- what?
I know it will happen again-- I know that eventually it will be medically advisable for us to visit each others' homes, to touch each other casually. But I also know that that is likely a long, long way off, and between now and then-- what? There's so much that feels dangerous to even think about. Let alone let myself want the way I want it, which is: very badly, actually.
We'll get there when we get there; the situation will evolve over time, as will my feelings, etcetera etcetera. There's no point in trying to fathom the future; it's always on its way. So that's not what I'm trying to deal with here-- I'm not trying to figure out when it will happen and what it will feel like. Instead I'm just noticing how easy it is for me to play possum, go numb, delay desire. To live in a circumscribed space and think, this is all I wanted anyway. When in fact, I want certain things so badly that I'm scared to even think their names.
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Next week, Look will have been out for a month, which means we're coming to the end of its initial publicity cycle, I promise. But before that happens, I'm participating in Yallwest's Writing Empathy panel this Sunday, which I'm incredibly stoked on.
You can also hear me talking about it & various and sundry other things on Forever35 (one of my favorite podcasts!) and The Check-In Podcast.
Two LA Times pieces this week: I got to interview Marlon James, who is indisputably a fucking genius. I also reviewed three books by prominent internet astrologers! (For the record, I am a Capricorn sun, Taurus rising and Pisces moon.)
& finally, I served as a story editor for my friend Sarah's podcast project Track Changes, which aims to teach you everything you don't know you don't know about book publishing. I'm on my third book, and I learned so much from listening to these interviews with industry professionals. If you're spending this time writing your novel, you should definitely be listening, but honestly even if you're just an avid reader I think it's worth understanding how the industry works (and, uh, doesn't).