I've been writing nonstop for the past five days and checking in with my director daily. She was worried I was writing the next American Novel. I promised her that I was a slow, ADD writer. Writing about the rape from a current voice was provocative for me. There was a lot of anger that came up and confusion about what to do with that anger since the event had happened two years ago. I had a dream where I was vomiting and barfing non-stop. I also wondered about what my rapist was up to now. And a lot of not really caring since so much time had passed. I got to a point where I just couldn’t write anymore so my director said, send me your stuff! I sent her the first four pages and said a prayer that she liked it. She left me a voicemail, saying, “it’s great heather, it’s really great.” I was on the subway to harlem when I heard her vm. Flood of relief. I knew she was a tough critic.
So I was planning to back to San Francisco to sublet my place and tie up some loose ends before coming back out to NYC. But my director said, I don’t really see why you would break up your flow right now. You are in a great writing groove. If you need your violin just have it shipped or better yet, just rent one.
My friend Chaela and her boyfriend had just moved into a new place in Harlem and offered me their extra bedroom at a reduced rent for a couple months. I said, fuck it, let’s do it. I just bought a bed. I have three dresses, three pairs of heels, about three changes of clothes, and my computer. I guess I'm set for now.