I wrote a song years ago called Purple City. It started off as a type of letter to an old friend and soon became sentimental and then I became annoyed. I did it again. Writing about my past was becoming a habit and I knew more fulfilment lay in trying to get away from them. So I added the lyric “my son is nearly twelve” as if then, when I was in my twenties, I had a son that old. It shaped the song differently, led to an unexpected ending featuring an enjoyable resolution. My dissertation puts me in a similar space. Trying to bridge distinctly different elements in a story I’m trying to write. I keep looking for solutions. I am trusting the Stephen King interview I heard where he said just think about it when you are falling asleep.