Various Things and an Excerpt

It's been a month? Geez. Weird.

I've been dealing with pain and a lot of stress. I'm working on a deadline and have just another week of heavy action. After that, it's batting clean-up, and then vacation time around the 4th.

I haven't exercised at all, and will cancel my Y membership. I'm just not going and I need to face it. For all the wasted months of membership, I could have... well, it's money/water under the bridge.

But there is good news: I conducted a writer's workshop as part of my contract job, and got good feedback. It was fun putting it together, and presenting it.

Yesterday, we took a long day trip southwest of here, and instead of freeways, I ended up on some back roads. It was great! The boy was busy reading, so I had loads of head time.

And a short story formed itself. Double bonus, we got back into town in time to hear a short story writer on the radio talking about how short stories differ from novels in that a novelist must create a whole world, whereas a short story only has to capture a moment. That is my stock in trade, I think, capturing those ordinary, essential moments in life.

So this morning, I opened a window and started writing. Between 9am and 2pm, I wrote 5,400 words and have a complete first draft. I don't have a title yet, but here is an excerpt. I still need to work it over more, make it tight and better, but I'm really happy with the story.

Jeanine stabbed the sturdy little plastic gardening cultivator at the earth, digging its tines into the hard crust of earth over the abandoned square of weeds and paver stones. What she really needed was one with metal tines, sharper tines. But she was not up to making a special trip to the store for that. It would be ok. She didn’t mind taking longer at the digging. No one else was helping, so she could suit herself.

She had received permission, in the form of a shrug and dismissal, to start this little garden again on the grounds of her son’s private school.

“Parent-volunteers are encouraged to help in a variety of ways at Mercy Heights Academy. Share your time and talents with us to enrich student experience and help keep our tuition costs low.” That is what the parent handbook said. Jeanine noticed it one day when she was sorting through a bunch of papers. She has often wondered why no one took care of the little garden. It got great sun, was situated in a corner of the playground where kids wouldn’t simply run over it in their play, and a split rail fence had already been put up around it. It seemed like an easy project to tackle — one that Jeanine could handle. One where a sudden onslaught of weeping wouldn’t interfere with the task.

The dirt parted grudgingly where the cultivator raked it. Sandy but hard, with very few air pockets in it. This ground seemed to sparkle just a little. The soil in this area was known for mica, and perhaps that accounted for the sheen. Or it could be glitter from the children’s art projects. Maybe it somehow got out into the earth of this abandoned garden. On her knees, wearing a baggy pair of mom pants and a floppy hat, Jeanine worked the earth in the four little squares making up the larger square, preparing it for the seed packets she had brought today.

It was important for the kids to see things grow from seed.

The previous week, she had put seeds in clear glass baby food jars with a strip of wet paper towel. One for each child in the kindergarten. The jars had their names on them, done in fat black Sharpee with curlicues and squiggles. It was the lettering she used for cake decorating too.

But the garden needed to have fresh seeds planted, marked in neat rows. She had the popsicle sticks and tape to mark each row. She knew the children would come look at the garden — the more thoughtful ones, anyway. And would then be able to see the word “carrot” with the seed packet picture of a carrot.

The sun warmed her back as she worked. It had been several weeks since she spent so much time outdoors. It felt good. She wondered why she hadn’t remembered how much she loved being outside. So many things had been lost. She was still counting them. How long does it take to finish a miscarriage? It had been months and she was still realizing the things she had lost.

Update, Cinco de Mayo

I woke at 5:30 to go work out but was hit by a wave of dread and despair. Probably PMS though that doesn't help me shake it off. I ended up not going to the gym. Later in the day, I ate a very high calorie meal which satisfied me, and now I'm just left with the lethargy, left leg pain and twitching and a sense of hopelessness that I'll never be able to fully function again.

Yeah. Really conducive to writing.

I did get the NY Times puzzle really fast today, and I bought some M&Ms. Any port in a storm.

Just Here

I'm just here. Not writing. Exercising is hard, and makes my body hurt. Since I came up with the brilliant theory that I will hurt with or without exercise, I'm going with the "with"...

Lots of hot flashes at night, interrupting sleep.

Am reading Nicholas Sparks for tips on the craft of just getting on with the story, without all the business.

I expect that my period will start soon, and this is the pre-game show. When I am exercising, I feel strong and jockish... but things quickly deteriorate when I contemplate where my life has ended up.

I'm so far from home. So far from where I thought I'd be, or even imagined where I might be. So very far.

The P Word

Procrastination. There. I said it.

I spent a half-hearted hour on my novel today. I cannot get over the fact that a lot of what is already written is overworked and off-target. It's not feeling or sounding like I want it to.

The only solution is to get myself into a state where the right voice comes out to play... and the only way to get to that point is to sit here and plod along, writing and trying. That's the way to become "inspired." Sit here and do the work.

Except the floors are dirty, the dishes need to be put away, laundry is piling up, the dog needs walking, etc. etc. etc. Yes, there is always something to pull me away.

I am meeting with a writing buddy later today, so that will motivate me to have something to show/talk about. And I am hoping to have a good solid three hours tomorrow to write. Maybe another hour today?

I just have to be ready to write when that voice arrives.

Too Much

"The Muse does not tolerate chaos." -- Stephen Pressfield, The War of Art

I stopped cold in my tracks when I read this very near the end of the book. I realized that I am so bogged down by clutter, stuff, things, chores, toys and oddments that my creativity is trying to swim in this bog.

Fully aware of this, I've been working to collect items for a yard sale. I halfheartedly planned to have it last weekend, but it rained. I realize that I was completely unprepared to hold a sale, but now, I'm eyeballing all the things that clutter corners, and see that they provide a rough surface for my mind's eye to catch on. So creativity is dampened. So much to do before I can really sit down and write, so much to keep at bay while I am sitting down writing.

I suppose I'm not making much sense, but I know it's an all-too-familiar problem with a deceptively simple solution. Sort the stuff: keep, sell, give away. While I try to whittle down my keep pile, I must face one simple truth. I have too many interests outside of writing. Too many books, too many hobbies, too many toys. Some of them required an investment of equipment or stuff, that still has value. That's the big problem now. Sell it? Yes, sell it! But that takes time and energy too.

Do I get rid of stuff with obvious value, store it safely against the day I'll get back to that, or just CLEAR IT OUT at any cost? That's where I am right now.

Another writer who struggled with juggling family and writing said, "Writing is a crime punishable by guilt." That rings true for me. Right now. I just want to sweep everything into the three piles and have it all just dealt with. So I can write.

Maybe it's time to get a bigger broom. Or blinders.

Meanwhile

Amidst all the drama and whining about my physical pain and its mystery, I am managing to spend at least an hour a day writing. Yesterday it was something like three hours.

I'm re-working the draft from the beginning. I have a tendency to overwrite scenes, having too much in the first draft but missing large pieces that make sense. Or missing obvious "moments" of show-don't-tell. This time, as well, I'm keeping a timeline with characters and locations for reference. It helps with chronology and minor characters, so that Robert doesn't become Roger halfway through the book.

There is also a young woman from Mexico in the drawing class, and I have her number. I need to call her and interview her to understand these little Mexican villages better. I don't think I'll be able to go visit one anytime soon, though that might be possible in the summer.

I'm reading a fantastic book called The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles, which is a profound yet simple treatise on The Muse and the invisible but real threshold between amateur and professional writer. In some ways, I have been writing fiction as an amateur, and that has to stop. It's time to push the boat out and cast off. I recommend this book for anyone who wants to examine a plausible reason why they are "blocked" or why they struggle with finishing a project.

Next on the stack is Stephen King's On Writing.

I am replacing one or two hours of television and movies each day with reading these books. It's much easier to zone out in other people's stories, but I just can't afford that kind of creative drain right now. I even find myself thinking in petulant almost resentful terms: hrmpf, the writers have done a story kind of like mine already on XYZ show so why should I bother? NOT GOOD for creativity. Period. So my Netflix is on hold, and the remote is farther away than the stack of books.

If I can push through the physical stuff, this book might get written.

Coffee, Tea or Halcion?

How long should I be concerned that I'm tired and prefer staying in bed to doing housework, cooking, doing errands and fun stuff with the kid? This is shaping up to be the third day this week.

Here's a little list of "advice" from a friendly website on self-care tips:

Set priorities and simplify tasks to reduce stress.
Stay physically active.
Make time for activities you enjoy.
Get about eight hours of sleep a night.
Connect with supportive family and friends.
Eat more healthy foods, including fruits, vegetables and whole grains.

HA HA HA! Very funny. When you're feeling ill and/or blue, the last thing you want to do is set priorities, make time for anything or connect with people. Stay physically active? Zzzzzzzzzzz.

This just proves my everlasting point that one cannot rely on the Internet for medical, legal or financial advice. EVER.

I think I'll make a cup of caffeinated coffee and see if that "perks" me up. If it gives me the heebies, then I'll know it was the wrong step. But this might be a good time to use caffeine for the drug that it is.