Since the election, reading has been preferable to watching the news. I start each morning with the New York Times, and when that becomes too anxiety-producing (sometime within minutes), I switch to a book. A ridiculous amount of my 2024 book-reading occurred during November and December, mostly thrillers and detective stories. 

It’s been nine months since I jumped into a swimming pool in California and couldn’t see my hand in front of my face underwater. When I emerged, I attributed the cloudy blur in the center of both eyes to the temporary effects of chlorine. But it didn’t go away; it got worse.

On Sunday I left the quiet, rural magic of Taleamor Park outside my home town of La Porte, Indiana, where I spent the past three weeks in an artist residency working on a new writing project set in La Porte.