Where Have I Been?

Usually when I go a few weeks without posting on here, there’s a good reason. The common notion over the past four years has been that I’ve reached a point of burnout where the only thing I can do is detox until “it feels right” again. While 2026 has been a relatively prolific year for essays, I am going to not waste your time and say that this is the first month where I’m not meeting a self-imposed quota. If I get above five, I’ll consider that pure luck. For now, I felt the need to share what inspired this latest hiatus, of which is hopefully resolved as of this publication.

Any writer will tell you that the publication of a book is long, tedious work. When you’re the driving force, it takes on added burdens of making sure the small details line up. In this case, it’s more than checking the grammar and making sure your story flows. Given that I wrote many of them years ago, it’s also difficult to not just numb yourself to the cadence and expectations, believing that the reader is either smart enough to meet some assumptions or clueless from the dreaded “too ambiguous for its own good” contrivance. While I pride myself on being an attentive editor, the questions are ultimately there until all you have left is instinct. Does this work with/out this? For what it’s worth, taking those leaps sometimes are the thrill of the chase.

More than the substance of my new short story collection, “Periphery,” I found the need to perfect the body. Given that I work exclusively in Microsoft Word, I am a slave to its tools. I love Word, and it has been my lifeblood for over two-thirds of my career. However, there are certain exhaustions, even when formatting your fifth paperback, that become overwhelming when the dominoes fall. The headers need to be consistent but not linked in a way that resets a detail 20 pages earlier. The indentation needs to be attractive with the bottoms aligned in a way that’s not just a wavy effect. For someone like me where aesthetic maybe matters too much, there’s also the need to keep every first page for the next story land on an odd number with zero header detail. 

This all sounds so simple until you realize the deadline is now the October 19th date you set in stone. Well, it could be, but my peeve with “Periphery” is that I didn’t want to be stressed out, sitting by the wall clock waiting for the long hand to reach the 12 at midnight. I wanted everything in the bank which, according to online retailers like Amazon, meant being officialized 5-7 days in advance. Nervously, I took that deadline seriously, believing that it would give me time to find the smaller flaws… of which there were way too many.

I don’t write this out of sympathy, but more to highlight the tedium that comes with focusing on a Word document for an extended period. I have been working on the format for weeks at a casual stride, but something is unnerving about the final days, in my case Friday through Monday evening (of which was my cut-off). Everything looked like it made sense. I was on track to throw in three more hours and be satisfied.

During that window, it took me 15-20 hours of going through the tedium and watching some stupid mistakes take me way too long to resolve. Text alignment was my biggest foe, for any adjustment set many other details off. The paragraphs and headers didn’t look right. I contemplated dropping certain details for the sake of a satisfying presentation. 

In a moment when I needed to be humbled, I dedicated a few hours when the formatting became too much playing with exterior functions. I played around with alternate covers and, in the straw that broke the camel’s back, I insisted on changing 75% of the text size. The condensed appearance, I think, worked in my favor and cut out a lot of dead space, but the thing with doing that on a Sunday when you want it done within 24 hours… you now have to fix everything you sweated too much to resolve for the original font and, by that point, you’re a bit too bleary and just want to quit no matter how much that deadline means to you.

Part of me felt inspired to make this essay to explain my current condition (which is forthcoming), but also because it’s one of those moments that comes every few years when you’re overwhelmed with mistakes and setbacks in hopes of a bigger goal. Deep inside, I want the next five minutes to be where everything clicks. I chase that rush, hoping the exhaustion will reward me with my desired prize. Up until the final hour, I was uncertain how soon I would be done. But I kept moving forward, believing something greater would soon appear.

Doing what I’m sure was over 50 hours of format editing in one month made me contemplate the nature of A.I. and its perceived convenience. I’ll admit to using it like a slot machine, typing in a picture I want to see to visualize my imagination. My ethical stance is that I’ll never incorporate those curiosities into my work. I’ll force myself to make the art by my own trial and error. I definitely will never touch Chat GPT to write me a blurb. To me, that side of this debate is obvious. If this tool is taken away, I’ll find a way to satiate my imagination. Even so, you look at A.I. books being written or fake actors making the news and wonder… why? Maybe it’s growing up in the age of Gorillaz, but I know there’s people hungry enough to play with technique and make something exciting and new. A.I., in the form of generative and the arts, is reproductive. For example, I’d rather watch an actor do an impersonation than see a falsified bastardization feed me the line. It’s not satisfying because the effort to find the human condition inside is not there. Anthony Hopkins might not look much like Nixon, but his pathos adds so much to a bruised performance.

At the same time, I look at the work I’ve done and consider what value it gives me. Of course I’d love to have a package the moment my first draft is complete. However, I think there’s something in the uncertainty and anticipation that’s more rewarding. You ask yourself if you can do it and, in taking those steps, you learn what you’re capable of. If you’re passionate about your career, you’ll put in the work to get it out there no matter the cost. Sometimes you’ll realize how accessible literature is, where you or I could create a cohesive presentation with the right instinct. Sure, it opens the doors to a larger market, but when you begin needing to know how the average page looks like, even the art of a novel becomes exciting when buying someone else’s. You see the effort and grow jealous, wondering how you could imitate the pagination.

I get that a lot of people are more drawn to quick turnaround and likely work within industries that expedite the process. There’s nothing wrong with that. However, I think the notion of A.I. giving people who are untalented the chance to make art feels way too pronged. I’m sure you could master it enough to make a decent icon, but will it mean anything? Do you see the effort and wonder what they thought on page 117? I’m by no means an instinctively visual person, and yet I encourage you, the person who doesn’t know what they’re doing, to put aside the easy answers and fail until you find an answer. You get new skills. You build a stronger pride and ego. The art of creation begins to mirror that “Rome wasn’t built in a day” motif. Everything takes time. Trust in yourself.

I’ll admit it took its toll on me this time. Maybe it’s doing 15-20 hours of editing over four days, but there came a point on Monday when everything just… collapsed. I soldiered on, but suddenly I was experiencing a headache which lasted for three days. Even if I had the strength to do everyday hobbies, there were times when I experienced an irregular level of dizziness where I needed to sit down. For as much as I thought I could bounce back on Tuesday and do something fun, I found my body telling me to slow down, maybe watch some mumblecore movie since my brain felt like mush. The new Narnia trailer looked fun. Why not do something with Greta Gerwig?

The upside of this extensive ordeal is that the soundtrack to long (I’d argue way too long) nights ended up being a mix of odd titles. I enjoyed the new Troye Sivan. I also got into Paul McCartney’s solo work for the first time. I’ve always cared about The Beatles, but this week got me to listen to “Ram” and “McCartney II” while endless changes were being made. I want to say that doing this helped me to recognize the differences between John and Paul and how much I might prefer Paul. “McCartney II” is a masterpiece that speaks to how curious his brain was. Whereas most artists would become complacent after two decades, here he was doing stuff like “Temporary Secretary”: a song I don’t understand its existence but greatly cherish the go-for-broke nature of his experimentation. To me, it’s why The Beatles matter as much as they do. They’re weird. They make you appreciate life while writing the best hooks you’ve ever heard. Not everyone will like it, but you have to believe in your vision no matter what. It’s the perfect messaging for an essay like this.

To be clear, I did take breaks throughout the process to live life and experience joy, but if you’re obsessed with completing any deadline, you’ll know how much it consumes you. Whether at a volleyball game, voting early, or watching Frasier reruns and the WNBA playoffs (Go Valks!), there’s that time-out stretch where you’re back on the fixation, believing you had everything in place to be done in 10 minutes. You won’t be, but your confidence will always insist you’re better than your creative skill.

This is all to say that, days later, my mind is still spent. Even if I’m satisfied with the final submission, you can’t help but feel the muscle memory wanting you to tinker. Stepping away is hard because you’ve gotten used to living around the deadline. It’s strange to be codependent on stress, but I’m sure it’ll last a few more days. Fingers crossed that, like the caffeine running through my veins, it eventually subsides and my mind moves on to the next thing. Next Monday, October 19th, is the release date. Surely I can stop and enjoy the moment enough.

So yes, I apologize if I’ve seemed unproductive on here in recent weeks. It’s taken more than I expected to get the final draft done. That said, it’s also reminded me that, no matter the strain, I'm proud of what I’ve created. I love the 20 stories included here and think it’s a great figurative sequel to “Esoteric Shapes.” My instinct is sharper and the ideas more ambitious. It only makes sense that I would try to give them the best presentation possible. For now, I’m going to relax, watch some sports, and look forward to what comes next.