On not knowing

a repost, and a reminder of what a powerful place not knowing can be

Summer at the shack (where I have not yet been).

This morning, I pulled out a draft manuscript of a novel I planned to take to an online writing workshop. It’s a novel based on my childhood growing up with a brother who has no spoken language. I had to find ten pages I could work with. I thought this would take me ten minutes. But oh it was awful. So muc…