Chapter 29
twenty-nine
December
From: ljywrites@
To: shortkingfarms@
Subject: Something new
File attached: new.docx
Emerson,
I know I never sent you Drift, and you’ve never said anything about it, because you’re a perfect angel.
But it never felt right, and I think that agent pointed out why.
To put it bluntly: Drift was depressing as fuck, Emerson.
I put a lot of myself into it, and I’m still proud of it.
But I think my focus for so long was on escape, on desperation.
Not on discovery. And I’ve learned recently that the latter is much more interesting.
It didn’t feel right sending it to you, it didn’t feel right trying to rewrite the same book for the hundredth time, because it didn’t fit me anymore.
After letting the notes from that agent sink in, I realized it was time to put Drift away, finally, at least for now.
All those bits and pieces I’ve been writing since I got here, trying to fit them into that old manuscript—it never completely worked, because all those landscapes, those scenes and fragments belonged somewhere new.
Someplace full of life. Someplace green.
Here are the first couple chapters I’ve been working on.
Merry Christmas. I love you.
Luca