Flashes of Panic

One way I know things have changed since my days as an undergraduate is that I’m no longer intimidated by writing. I used to sweat blood over five-page papers, but this past week I sat down and wrote an eleven-page project proposal draft in two afternoons. The difference, I suppose, is that now I tend to be writing because I know what I’m trying to say, rather than trying to articulate incoherence before I have it in order in my mind.

Last night, for example, I was stirring a pot of Christmas fudge and thinking about everything I’ve learned about that process since I started doing it at some Thanksgiving half my life ago. This morning I sat down and wrote 1,100 words on the subject, which is about enough text to fill a page of a magazine without much illustration.

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