Last night, right before I fell asleep, I was thinking about the novel I am writing now and how I can make it work, when I remembered a notebook that I had purchased almost a decade ago in Florence, Italy.
It wasn’t even that I really remembered the notebook.
It was more like an image of it just suddenly appeared in my head.
When I got up this morning, I came downstairs and dug through the closet and found the little book.
Here is a picture of it.
The pages are blank.
Why, I wondered, did my brain want me to see this?
And then I looked up the word “quaderno.”
It means exercise.
This is an exercise book.
How can I make the novel work?
I can make it work by practicing, by showing up and writing.
I can make it work by exercising.

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