This story is wandering along. It seems to be narrowing in on the relationship between two friends, as well as one family, that live in a futuristic, post-climate crisis city. It’s not quite like anything I’ve written before. The plot feels secondary to the main character’s relationships with the people around him. It’s fun to explore as deeply as I can the dynamic between a pair of best friends, a mother and a son, a brother and a sister, and so on, but it’s hard not having the gentle tug of a central plot line. I just keep placing my characters in new situations, seeing what happens, and repeating.

But I’ve only written about twenty pages, and it could still go anywhere.

I’m in Buenos Aires, and there are lots of cool places to write, but mostly I find myself writing in my small bedroom with all of the lights off except for the desk lamp (my host mother says that electricity is expensive and asks me to not to use the lights unless I need them).

I’m also working on a standup set in Spanish. Here is one joke premise that I’m working on, translated into English for your reading pleasure:

Sometimes I struggle to communicate effectively in Argentina because I learned to speak Spanish in Spain. For example, in Spain, they say, “Hey, good morning,” but in Argentina they say, “THE FALKLAND ISLANDS ARE OURS! NEVER FORGET!”