The Next Shut Down

I've been in bed with my back out for three days, with plenty of time to think, and have decided to shut this down.

In truth, I blog because I think I might need a record, publicly, when my next book comes out. But I also realize that committing to blog doesn't move me forward creatively - it narrates the process I do/would undergo anyway. A process that used to live in my journals. A private process that I miss.

So this is the last blog - again - for a while. I'm sure I'll pick it up again someday, but for now, I'm taking fiction, emotion, questions, questing back inside.

The Next Fear

Tonight, I am co-DJing a happy hour and party at the Duplex Diner.

This should not cause me fear. But it does. I spent 20 minutes this morning changing clothes until I struck upon an outfit that is cute (enough) while being comfortable since I'll be eating and drinking gay Diner food for free.

It surprises me, the degree to which this is a true hurdle I need to overcome. I worked at the Diner for almost 8 years during grad school, and have a deep bench of friends and former customers who it will be great to see. The happy hour is a group I know quite well too.

So why the fear? Or, is what's important that I recognize the fear, but move forward anyway?

....


PS: Wrote a few words last night, and again this morning. Fiction creeping back in.

Snow Day (The First This Year, Not the Next)

A great galloping pile of exciting comic books.

A bit of work to do - turning technical wonk-speak into compelling human interest tales (and yes, that's my justification to call it creative...).

THREE movies - all artsy - I want to see (which, yes, means I get a SODA).

The last hundred pages of FREEDOM by Jonathan Franzen.

Oh, it's going to be good.

The Next Release

I've been feeling as if I should be attending the Association of Writers and Writing Program conference (AWP) up in Woodley Park next week.

I'm still a writer, a reader, a lover of literature, right?

And yet when I peruse the listings of seminars and lectures and discussions I felt... nothing. Sure, a few held a bit of excitement - turning short stories into novels, historical fiction, research, that sort of thing. But that gasping enthusiasm I used to feel, that need to devour everything AWP offered, had gone.

Good or bad? I don't know. But I like my life as it is now: writing, reading, choosing images to complement the words. So I think I shouldn't feel as if I must do any one thing. And that actually feels very good.

Rediscovery

So I felt better yesterday, and actually got a few things done.

"Learned" how to wood-glue a loose floorplank. (Learning requiring only reading the back of the tube, but still.)

Rediscovered a story I'd begun working on long ago, and reconsidered short fiction, something that, post-novel, I'd tended to consider something for the past.

Taped the living room wall for painting (tonight's project).

And this morning we completeid the first of our training runs for a 10-mile race in April.

Now to work, with a print-out of the story idea in my pocket, and a gorgeous living room wall later tonight.

The First Stumble

Yesterday, at church, I went from lively to dead-alive in about three minutes time, and slept the remainder of the day. I'm not even sure what the message of the sermon was, except, possible, to live fully, experience deeply, "pray unceasingly" and be open to the beauty of every day.

So I left, slept for seven hours, and now drag my ass to work.

But working with Glen's manuscript on Saturday was a treat and an honor, and those few fiction ideas continue to buzz around my head. Perhaps tonight?

The Next Coming to Terms

I have always been a dabbler - before I was out of elementary school, I'd tried karate, trumpet, chorus, sign language, drawing classes, a failed physical activity here or there, petsitting and more.

So I wonder if this attempt to respect dabbling in my almost-40s has its roots in something fundamental?

Things I want to do:

Honor my family, and their needs, more.

Same for friends.

Write - but whether that's the football star, the reluctant son, the lost girl or someone else, who knows?

Remember what I love - popular arts and entertainment - and find myself a venue.

Be inspired - books, movies

So is that dabbling rather than committing? I don't know? Maybe - just maybe - it's simply LIVING life.