death is smoking my cigars (a thread)
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The paper with the squares and near-squares on it, most darkened, some still empty, is a good story from 2020. It represents a year-long effort inspired by @kate_mckean, @jonweisman, and Charles Bukowksi.

I’m lucky to be the father of two young boys, and I’m lucky to have a job. But those two blessings do make it a challenge to find time for what I love to do most: write books.

I finished writing my last book, Benchwarmer, in a Jiffy Lube waiting room the day before my second son was born. That was six years ago.

In the language of arithmetic operations, going from one kid to two looks like x^2, not x + x.

Writing time was harder to come by. From 2015, when Benchwarmer came out, to 2019, I worked sporadically and ineffectively on an idea for a novel. It never seemed to be coming together, and I worried it never would.

A year ago today, I saw some words from super-agent @kate_mckean, another full-time job/kids/writer person. She had just finished a draft of a novel and advised that even if you can get as little as 15 minutes to write, take it. Keep pushing forward.

Shortly after that, I was privileged to get a look at a draft of a novel by @jonweisman, another full-time job/kids/writer person. It’s a beautiful book, and I was encouraged by his ability to write it amid the other challenges of his life.

Both of those inspirations linked up with one that has pushed me forward in the past, from Charles Bukowski’s poem “death is smoking my cigars.” In it, he talks about the need to “get the word down” despite all the forces stacked up against that happening.

So I decided that that’s what was going to happen in 2020. I drew 200 boxes on piece of paper, each box equaling an hour. I figured that’d amount to a little over a half hour a day.