Braden and Krys watched the Notre Dame football game on Braden’s iPad, drinking their pints of Stella. Connor and I stood by, talking. 

Connor asked why I pause when I’m talking. I told him the Native American story about how, when they would sit in a circle and smoke a peace pipe, it was impolite to answer a question before taking some time to think about it first. 

He asked if it’s been hard for me since I’ve started writing full-time. I told him no, if anything it’s been easier than working a job. 

We talked some more about writing. I told him about how Joyce would write two sentences per day and it took him 17 years to finish Finnegans Wake. Connor asked a good question, do we think Joyce would overwrite and then trim down to two sentences, or would he obsess over every single world and only write it down when he was sure of it?

I also told him what another writer said to me about how I’m a 800m runner right now, as I transition from poetry to short prose. I’m not quite to the marathon-running that is novel writing. I think Borges said he could never write a novel. I think I’ll try, someday. Not yet. Now I’ll focus on shorter runs, writing what’s happening in the very moment around me.