Thinking that maybe what the moment calls for is the acceptance that I'm not in a fiction space right now (right now being this moment, this second; the next half hour could be different – nevermind the next day, week...) and roll with whatever creative space I'm presently in? Feels as though – and has for a very, very long time, even if I didn't have the words to describe it – I've been going against the current of myself for years, fiction when I'm in a non– mode / non– when I'm in a fiction mode / organizing when it's time to let things rip and letting things rip when it's time to organize: what would happen were I to approach each working morning without an intention of a single project? if I simply let fragments come and become what they will, fiction or non...? Eventually – I'm more or less certain – they'll become something. All part of an effort to lower the stakes, I presume…