Wednesday--Day 3 of a Week to Write
I’m going to keep this short! I have work to do.
Sometimes we need to say that.
In brief: I went down something of a rabbit-hole for too long yesterday. It started with writing in response to some feedback; this can happen.
I started to write before thinking through. Then examined what was getting onto paper. Fought a niggling feeling that I was going somewhere I didn’t need to be, maybe even shouldn’t be, but kept writing… then finally stopped.
While I’m not someone who outlines, I do have a “plan” of sorts, even just for approach. Today, I will get back to the plan albeit with some added awareness. I suspect that what I was grappling with yesterday does have significance, needed and needs to be looked at, but also needs to be woven in.
Do you remember how, as a kid in school, the teacher would demonstrate how to work with clay?
If you couldn’t make your clay ashtray/vase/key receptacle/fill-in-blank all with one piece of molded clay, then there was a process by which to add a piece:
You have to score and roughen the two surfaces before they adhere to each other.
I think that’s what I was doing yesterday. Or some step…
Back to work.
By the way, my math is really bad. Never take my numbers to heart. It’s 171 days to December 25.
Thank you for reading these posts—they’re different from the usual Unschool pieces!
Is anything different going on with your work—some break from “usual”?
Trying to write or even think about writing from a 33 foot C&C sailboat is a hopeless task. Just as one is settling into a thought about how to develop a character from my novel a boat task appears to short circuit any progress.- even my husband who can spend long periods of time being non- communicative suddenly senses a lack of attention and needs to talk. The solution, I think, is to be in the moment of my experience and wait until I return to my writing cave.
Am in my first week of retirement from a job with oppressive, vindictive management. Needing to build back strength after a long series of physical stuff (a dislocated femur is so rare some ER doctors have never heard of it, for example) and Covid lockdown. In a disorientation of starting to swim again, pick up a bike today that should be relatively safe for my totally revised knee, feeling drained with relief of lifting of work weight - the need to write is surging. Alison recommended I write the ending of a novel I feel has been so long in the making that it's gone stale, and I wrote a couple of hundred words on that. Pulled out a short story, never completed, that started nagging at me again, and after reading critique comments and mulling them over, will take a stab at that, too. Don't have a proper routine yet. Seems to be swim or walk after getting up, sitting at desk for a couple of hours with a lot of dawdling - reading news, househunting, thinking about story....