up for air
I just now came up for air from my latest project. I write all the time now, all the time, always, unless I'm sleeping or too tired to think.
It's pretty cool. I don't mind so much being sick so long as I can work.
Not that I don't have my moments of existential despair. All the woe-is-me and the laundry list of things I'll never do again.
Really though, one of the hardest parts about this is just the isolation. And that's not a function of being confined to a house or a chair, it's a function of my special karma that, for one reason or another has made me forever bereft of sisters when I need them most.
There's just no one to talk to.
My husband and I have been together 25 years next autumn. We do a lot of things well but the Venn diagram of where he and I overlap does not include the lion's share of what matters to me in a given afternoon. Instead we're very good at talking AT and around each other (and making the most of those slivers of intersection) but still, it is no great joy to look up from a fevered day of one's life's work and have only a mirror to hash it out with.
I'm just saying.
Anyway, I'm taking this tidal moment to look back on the work I've done in the past three months, and the past six, and it is as gratifying, if lonely. I realized back in winter that I need to add "editing" and "publishing" back into the stack of dishes that I juggle, so I did that. I breathed new energy into Riddled with Arrows, three different projects in three months, and I'm quite pleased. Also quite exhausted, in need of a long break, but wiser for the experience, and less lonely in a creative sense - that's one of the things I get out of it. Talking about writing with other writers. I need that, now more than ever, so huzzah. Well done, me.
But also... sigh.
Anyway, although I'm not 100% finished with the final issue for this season, but close enough to see over it. I feel great relief and am looking forward to spending more time on my own writing again and less time stressed about deadlines.
My other projects are growing well, if slowly. Thanks for asking.
Here is where I kick back for a minute and decide where to put my energies next. Maybe enjoy half an hour of Minecraft before triage-brain kicks in again, asking what's next. Hey, maybe longer!
Next is novel, which I have neglected for the past week, despite promising to add a mere 10,000 words by month's end. There's still time.
Also, family stuff. The ancestors never stay quiet for long, and every one of them has stories to tell.
Also, poetry. Have decided now is, officially, the time to pick an order to the poems of the story of my life, at least so far. I had a very meaningful start with that.
Also, new stuff! I have been submitting and even writing for specific calls, which is historically a great way for me to generate new material.
And that's just the "now" stuff. I have ideas again... a whole bunch of 'em, it's just a question of finding space in a day.
Basically, now that the well is filling up again I really just want to fucking do it already and write all the things that I can before the clock runs out on me altogether. And I love that, but Body does not. Body says burning the candle at both ends only burns the wick up faster. My metaphors are out of control.
I think the next three months are going to be about finding ways to cycle through all the things I want to do, but in a sustainable way.
Not quite sure yet what that looks like, but. Well. I have ideas...