Why I am keeping this journal

The book took me four years to write and a month to live. It is finished, and finished things do not move. But the road did not stop when we got home, and neither did the thinking, and I needed somewhere to put the parts that do not fit in a memoir.

So this is that place. A few paragraphs when I have them. A photo when Conor lets me. Something from an event, or a letter a reader sent, or a thought that showed up on the drive to work and would not leave.

I am not going to promise a schedule. I will promise it is me writing it, and that if it is here, I meant it.

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