write-a-thon update, and life in general
I completed the write-a-thon. YAY!
I have zero draft of the short novel outlined with Chuck Palahniuk.
Of course, I'm not happy with it. At all. But that is why, friends and neighbors, we rewrite. And rewrite. And rewrite, and well. You know the drill.
But it will be a while before I'm rewriting this piece.
***
I've been home from Clarion West a year. It's been a wild, rough year. But it's also been good, full of joy and wonder and many, many firsts.
Sometimes I feel like I'm on a trapeze, swinging back and forth between the unknown air. Behind me, there's a spot hovering above the ground, yet secured to the earth, where my feet are comfortable and know how to land and fit. I know that if I can do this right, there will be hands to reach for and grab that will carry me to a new, unseen place. I need to reach this spot in the middle of the air--it's where I need to go, yet I yearn for the familiar place behind me. As for falling into a net, that's not an option. I just need to reach, take my time, and progressively grab those hands and find that new space while bringing those elements of the old, comfortable space I love with me.
***
My grandmother died last month. She would have been 92 at the end of this one.
This was the grandmother who helped rear me, who was one of my best friends and one of the people I love most on earth. As I was explaining to Avadore when I told him she'd died, it's one of those things that's happy and sad. Sometimes the body is alive, but that doesn't mean you're living.
I have zero draft of the short novel outlined with Chuck Palahniuk.
Of course, I'm not happy with it. At all. But that is why, friends and neighbors, we rewrite. And rewrite. And rewrite, and well. You know the drill.
But it will be a while before I'm rewriting this piece.
***
I've been home from Clarion West a year. It's been a wild, rough year. But it's also been good, full of joy and wonder and many, many firsts.
Sometimes I feel like I'm on a trapeze, swinging back and forth between the unknown air. Behind me, there's a spot hovering above the ground, yet secured to the earth, where my feet are comfortable and know how to land and fit. I know that if I can do this right, there will be hands to reach for and grab that will carry me to a new, unseen place. I need to reach this spot in the middle of the air--it's where I need to go, yet I yearn for the familiar place behind me. As for falling into a net, that's not an option. I just need to reach, take my time, and progressively grab those hands and find that new space while bringing those elements of the old, comfortable space I love with me.
***
My grandmother died last month. She would have been 92 at the end of this one.
This was the grandmother who helped rear me, who was one of my best friends and one of the people I love most on earth. As I was explaining to Avadore when I told him she'd died, it's one of those things that's happy and sad. Sometimes the body is alive, but that doesn't mean you're living.