• Andrea Anderson


Updated: Mar 31, 2020



  • JINX – 7k / 80k

  • WINE MOM/VODKA AUNT – 5k / 20k

  • CINDERELLA – 10k / 90k

  • STIFF AS A BOARD – 3k / 100k

  • THE WOODS – 4k / 25k


  • SMALL TOWN – 3k / 30k


Hand to god, realizing it’s already September has given me temporal whiplash. And a migraine. And an age-inappropriate heart murmur. Like, what the fuck. Yesterday it was Easter. I was hard boiling seven million eggs and trying to decide which giant stuffed animal at the store looked less like a serial killer made it while also trying to talk my five-year old out of laying traps for the Easter Bunny. Spring was here in all its damp, green, pollen-saturated glory, and it still technically felt like there was a ton of time left.

Time left for what, I have no idea, the future is a great and terrifying mystery to me, but there was a general feeling of vaguely cautious optimism about the remainder of 2019.

And then summer arrived, took a good hard look around, and apparently decided to say “fuck all y’all” before vanishing quicker than my dignity in a dive bar the summer after my first year of college.

Summer gave me a fake phone number and pretended not to know how to put on a condom.

Summer did not want to stay for breakfast.

Anyway, what I’m doing a frankly stellar job of talking around, here, is that it is somehow September, just a couple of weeks away from calendar-official autumn—and the deeply long-suffering release of LIGHT AS A FEATHER—and I have reached maybe a quarter of the writing goals I set for myself back in January. Maybe. That could be a generous assessment, but you know what, I’m feeling generous today, so let’s go with it.

A quarter.



Twenty-five percent.

Zero point two-five.

What this number tells me is that—well, for one, I probably set absolutely asinine writing goals for myself back in January, Jesus Christ—but also, two, I probably need to be significantly better about sticking to one project at a time. Like, I am prone to egregious fits of self-indulgence. I have the attention span of a baby deer in a vegetable garden. These are just The Facts.

And my WIP list is like a slowly updating computer that’s been running Windows Vista for fifteen straight years—the progress bar is seemingly always stuck at 33%. It never moves. Occasionally, there is a promising mechanical whirring noise that gives you false hope and makes you think it might finish soon, but it’s a bullshit bald-faced lie. It is never finished. Nothing will ever be updated.

Luckily, I have a plan to productively wrangle all my stray garbage.

A new plan.

A foolproof plan.

Instead of flitting back and forth between projects like a particularly slutty hummingbird, I will be doing this:

  1. I will assemble a wide assortment of tiny pieces of paper.

  2. I will write down the working titles of all my current WIPs – minus BREATHE UNDERWATER, which is mostly done – using sparkly pastel-colored gel pens.

  3. I will expertly fold these tiny pieces of paper.

  4. I will put the tiny pieces of paper in a hat.

  5. I will shake the hat.

  6. I will close my eyes and pick one of the tiny pieces of paper out of the hat.

  7. I will read the working title of the WIP that will have my undivided attention for as long as it takes to fucking finish it.

  8. That’s it.

  9. That’s the plan.

  10. The whole plan.

I remain undefeated as an artist and a scholar, and I might actually post a video of this exercise for the sake of wine-fueled posterity, and if you haven’t subscribed for updates to my blog/me/my creative dysfunction, you’re really missing out, man.


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