Writer | Teacher | Editor | Publisher
Flipping through old notes of research for my novel, I came upon these fine tidbits:
Wind blowing from northeast
Hair vigor
A mourning lesson
Storm & Mr. Tamura
“Nasty is the only adjective….”
Still wondering about that last one.
Where did your story begin?
Summer hit with a flurry of travel, and it’s been difficult to get back into the groove of things now that I’m home.
I could rattle off several anxious reasons why my writing projects sit unattended, but instead I’m letting it go and holding on to the what Jane Hammons shared in her guest post recently, that breaks from writing don’t have to be worrisome.
Sometimes they are necessary and sometimes, as she says, these breaks can function as a creative boost and be just the distraction we need to get back into writing: “as long as I’m moving forward and not settling into [dread or self-loathing or ennui], I’m okay.”
Excerpts from my day, tiny essays about up north, musings about what the fish must think as we troll across the water in an old pontoon boat with “Foxy Lady” streaming from the speakers. A sound more luring, perhaps, than the glint of a fake minnow that pulls through the water on the end of fishing line.
Though even my attention here is divided. My nightstand is full of books in play: Louise Erdrich’s Love Medicine, David Arnold’s Mosquitoland, and a book of poems in Anishinaabemowin and English, called Weweni, by Margaret Noodin. Plus, I just downloaded the new Brevity Magazine app, which displays all its recent posts in a cool, easy to browse format.
Taking inspiration however it comes.
“I like my coffee with cream and my literature with optimism.”
~ Abigail Reynolds
What are you writing, reading, or doodling these days?
There is a stretch of ground next to our driveway that refuses to let any cultivated plant take root. Stubborn, the dirt cracks in the sun and floods in the rain. It fills with prickly weeds and trash blown in from the street. It is a source of frustration and endless contemplation on how to make it work. But, one respectable wildflower pops up in the mix now and then: chamomile. Small and fragile yet somehow withstanding, she takes on the look of a weed–so as not to get smothered by the others I assume–and often gets pulled in a frenzy to clear out the rubbish. This time, thought, I aim to let her stay as long as she will; tiny flowers make me happy.
We really do have a wretched strip of earth to contend with each summer, but I could be talking about my noveling or editing. Here’s a tip: When you’re waist deep in a draft, do not go back to the beginning. You will find weeds and cracks and trash. You will be tempted to throw everything out as yard waste, including the little gems. And, there are little gems.
Write forward.
