Last week my mother and I went on vacation together, something we’ve done every year since I was a kid. Back then it was camping in Massachusetts and now it’s usually Florida, where this year the heat was oppressive and the humidity unavoidable. We found air-conditioned buildings to squat in and spent one long hour waiting out a thunderstorm underneath a deserted awning. It’s been years since I’ve seen it rain so hard and for so long. In LA it’s usually the lightest of rains, the faintest impression of a shower.
I’m reminded again and again the greatest lesson my parents ever taught me: to be myself with such conviction that no one can ever question it. It seems like such a simple concept but it’s one I hold onto those days when everything seems a little harder. When writing becomes laborious or editing seems impossible and finishing a book feels like the most unreachable goal you could have set for yourself. Where summer 2016 feels both a hundred years away and just around the corner, too close to finish everything you have to finish.
We spent one day wandering around the newly opened addition to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter and it made me remember why I do what I do, why I write what I write. Why I’ve steered my life in the direction of long, computer-filled days and blank notebooks and a permanent callous on the inside of my ring finger from always holding a pen. If I could write something half as great as this, I kept thinking—a quarter as memorable, a tenth as permanent…
Love what you love, I write on a new blank page. Love it a lot and fuck anyone who wants to question it.
photographs taken, of course, at the wizarding world of harry potter.