There are four people in my little family.
We go to four different schools:
- four different first days,
- four different last days,
- four different winter breaks, and, usually,
- four consecutive spring breaks.
A predictable pattern of free summers and excruciatingly busy school years has been a part of my life since I was five years old. Still, I always find the slow-down in my writing life when I start teaching again to be a surprise.
But this year, I'm working with it. I'm pretending that the intensification of grading, appointments, illnesses, chilliness, rain, darkness, and grouchiness is the climax of a novel, and I'm trying to appreciate the unexpected inevitability of it.
I'm also creating, at a very tiny snail's pace, a kind of unexpected inevitability in the climax of my real novel. I've written just under 1,000 words on it since my last post over a month ago, and each one of those words has come at the price of something or someone who needed my attention: my bursting email inboxes, the sticky goo on my sink, my (ahem) family.
(My son, for example, having noted that I was not "doing" anything but typing, just moments ago asked if he could get something to eat, and I told him quite pleasantly that he could do anything he wanted as long as he left me alone--and that leaving me alone included not making strange noises from the kitchen that I could hear in the living room. He understood.)
So, I'm making very tiny snail-like goals for myself now. Twenty minutes of writing three mornings a week maybe. Or one hundred words a day for a least a few days in a row.
Or maybe even this: taking the evening before Fall Break to update this blog, to tell those of you who are following me (hi, Mom and Dad!) how much I appreciate your inevitable encouragement.
I think although sometimes our pace slows down, we never really stop creating. I give myself credit for writing when I comment on blogs or articles. I may not be writing formally at the time, but many a blog post or essay has been sparked by something I've read and commented on. I also give myself credit for parking at the far side of the parking lot.
ReplyDeleteI give myself credit for taking the steps instead of the elevator.
I once vowed on a cruise, as our rooms were on the eleventh floor, that I would not take the elevator for the whole trip. I only broke my vow when I rode up the elevator with my daughter on a stretcher, as she needed to be airlifted from the ship for an unexpected blood transfusion (She is perfectly well now--one year later)
I've begun to write about that, but It has stalled.....
I think we are creating at all moments. Creating Family nourishment when we make dinner, although it may be hurried, and simple.
We create security when we do the laundry and fold it and have it ready for the next day.
We create goodwill when we sit with our pets and smile and quietly contemplate.
Grist for our mills--the every day. For we are always milling
always percolating
what will later be drink
and bread for our souls.
Our own personal souls
And the souls of those for whom we care
The ONE soul.
Look at that
I wrote an unexpected Blog post today.
Gloria,
ReplyDeleteHmm. I just now read this.
Slow percolating means strong coffee.
And learning to like the taste of bitter.
Grateful to you.