The thing about writing, I read, is that you’ve got to do it every day. I roll these words around as I walk through town, saying them out loud, taking out my current notebook, my latest leaky green pen. Every day over and over I say, taking a break to mop the kitchen floor, to feed the cat. The thing about writing is the same thing as about every day. Every day is the thing about writing. And playing with words is only what you do when you know you have to keep on every day trying to know that every day you’ve got to do the thing about writing. The play is only to propel, until the thing takes root, gets a grip of you, lets you walk into it like a warm room.