Although official summer doesn’t end for some time, the academic year for many, including myself, is gearing up. So I’ll be moving from one kind of writing schedule to another. Both work, but I can’t help already feeling nostalgic for the early summer days when I wake before five simply because it is light. That is when I write in the morning and read during the afternoon. Come next week, mornings will be taken up with classes, and I’ll start to write after three. The persimmon jewel box of my office at home will be replaced by the expansive, glass-walled room where I teach, the “white noise” of lawn mowers in our neighborhood become students’ voices on the field.
The memoir revision is moving toward completion, and research for two more “Venice” pieces is well under way. So I continue to move between vivid memories of my own past and an imagined past in the Venetian Lagoon. Both are small localities that for me comprise a large part of this writer’s conscious world.