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I have a story coming out on May 7 at Voyage YA by Uncharted, titled “Grand Canyon.” It was inspired by two things: the first, my friend Matt in college, who wrote a story about the Grand Canyon disappearing. It left me wondering, where did it go? This story suggests an answer. A messy answer.

It’s also inspired by a song, “Grand Canyon,” by Tracey Thorn, who’s one half of the band Everything by the Girl, one of my all-time favorites. “Grand Canyon” was on one of her solo albums, Out of the Woods, and as I was writing this story, I kept thinking of the lyrics: “Look at this hole inside your heart no one can ever fill. It’s like the Grand Canyon. Look at this gap that’s opened up between you and the world. It’s like the Grand Canyon.” I hope you’ll check it out and let me know what you think.

Losing the rhythm, and finding it again

Hey, we survived tax season! We should give ourselves a round of applause for that much, right?

Lately though, I’ve felt kind of out of sorts—and not just because I owed taxes. It’s as if, ever since then, I’ve fallen out of step with the patterns and routines that have kept me moving for—well, I don’t know how long. A long time.

I guess it started when we went to New Orleans for the Saints & Sinners Literary Festival at the end of March/beginning of April, which was inspiring and really motivating. After that, I was home for the blink of an eye before heading to Chicago to see Kylie Minogue in concert again. (She was fantastic.) Then I came back home and tried to slide back into my regular routine—working out in the morning, working the day job, teaching on Tuesday nights, writing in the early morning and the occasional evening.

Then I sprained my foot.

(I promise, this letter is not going to turn into “old man complaining about his aches and pains” monthly. But it could be, since I have enough material, I’M JUST SAYING.)

Okay, where was I? Right, losing my rhythm and going off course. I recall reading once that it takes two weeks to establish a habit. From recent experience, it doesn’t seem to take nearly that long to break one (a positive one, at least; all my bad habits are still going strong).

That foot thing derailed me. Even after it started feeling better, I had no problem hitting the snooze button and sleeping in instead of getting up and making coffee and working out. Why is this important for writing, you ask? Thank you for asking! Because between the coffee and the working out is when I do most of my writing for the day, before the soul-sucking drudgery of the day job ensued and sapped my will to do anything that resembled creativity.

Okay, sorry, went off course again. Anyway, I was sleeping right through my writing time. (There is occasionally some time after making dinner, but by then my brain is usually saying wow, no thank you.)

This weekend, I’d finally had enough. Monday morning rolled around, my alarm went off, I hit snooze exactly one time, then turned off the alarm, dragged my ass out of bed, and made coffee. And wrote. (And then worked out, but that’s not the main focus here.)

Sometimes I reflect on how predictable and, let’s be honest, boring my day-to-day life is. The last few weeks have taught me to be glad for that. It seems like it’s necessary for me to run some parts of my life on autopilot if I want to focus on the creative outlets that I find fulfilling. I don’t know if this helps you in any way, but I hope it does.

What I’ve been reading

A lot of short stories. I’ve been catching up on the pile of New Yorkers in my office before they fall over and crush me, and there were a couple gems: “Nocturnal Creatures,” in the May 5 issue, and the phenomenal “Hatagaya Lore” by Bryan Washington, in the March 31 issue. They’re both available to read for free online, as far as I can tell, and I can’t recommend them highly enough.

I also read “One by One,” by Lindz McLeod, which is beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. If you’ve ever seen the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode “Remember Me,” it reminds me of that, except queer and much sadder.

And because I can’t leave you on a down note, also read “The Lighthouse Out by the Othersea,” by Juliet Kemp. It’s a gorgeous science fiction story about loss and mystery, hope and finding purpose. It’s also got a fantastic last line, but I won’t spoil it. If you read it, let me know what you think.

And that’s all for now. See you next month!