A mystery, a puzzle, a riddle, a secret
Years ago, I built a book from looping failure cycles. In every essay, I turned over the same things, asking new angles for answers. But understanding was not enough to make me whole. The book did not end with resolution. This one has to. I think what follows would be called standalone essays. Fine. Or you could think of this as a dossier, the evidence of my attempts. If I don’t exit these time loops, these men echoing men, their cause, my effect, I’ll meet my tragic end. I’m saying a man might kill me if I keep choosing wrong. The protagonist’s stakes are what might be lost or gained when she takes a risk. I could write a book about what happened and what it all meant, attaching stakes to understanding it all. Or I could raise them. I could gain a life I can’t imagine if I find my way out.
(From White Magic, forthcoming from Tin House Books, April 2021)
And now, with the book done, the exit made, what do I do with this collection? I’m done with it, but somehow, it continues to exist in piles around my hoarder witch house and in the cupboards of my hard drive. Can I share these scraps with you, so they might leave me?