-The inscription found on the General Post Office in NYC at 8th Avenue and 33rd Street.
This unofficial postman’s creed has been jostling around in my brain. In part, I suppose, because I’m currently slogging through the dead of winter, my least favorite time of the year. It also happens to be the words I say to myself as I’ve been trying to get a little traction on my novel. My attention had slipped a little during the holidays but over the last week or so, I’ve been carving out a daily writing schedule before I eat breakfast, take a shower, teach my writing classes or even check my email. (Neither lack of sleep nor feigned excuses will keep this writer from the… slow…? completion of her appointed novel! Or some such). Forget those dust bunnies in the corner– let them grow into dust demons!
I will confess this– one early afternoon during the weekend (after I’d put in my writing time), I did amble into a bar, order a mojito and, for an hour or so, imagine I was in a place where even the postmen have nothing to worry about but getting too much sun.