I’ve survived week one of a new semester. I feel like
I’m standing on the rim of a canyon, looking into the great wide empty divide.
Critical responses, book reviews, peer feedback letters, blog posts, novel chapters,
short stories, essays, magazine pitches—all of this work lies before me, and my head
is spinning.
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Photo Credit |
In contra dancing, when you get to the end of the line, you wait out a round before getting back into the dance. (Dancers are free to spend this wait time however they like—swinging their partner is always encouraged!) When you start up again, the dance moves are all the same but you’re moving in the opposite direction. For a few rounds, dancers can dazed and feel out of sorts; we call this the end effect.
I’ve been sitting out of the writing dance for the
past few weeks. Don’t get me wrong – I’ve been doing other writerly-related
activities: reading lots, editing and polishing existing pieces, sending and
receiving feedback from fellow writers, and pitching to magazines.
But mainly, I’ve been laughing with my sister, giggling
with baby cousins, smiling at the sky from the tops of mountains. I’ve been
taking long hikes and staying up too late in packed bars jiving to brass music.
I’ve been dreaming.
In Venice (LV!) with the baby sister! |
At Red Rock Canyon, Nevada |
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Cutie cousins! |
Treme Brass Brand, NOLA |
I have to remind myself that this is normal. I
actually do know how to write, even if I haven’t done it in a while. It’s like I’m
looking at a faucet and willing it to turn on. The minute I put some energy in
that direction, the water’s going to gush out.
From where I stand, looking into that great divide, I know I’m going to have to fly and soar and make some magic happen to get to the other side. I’m going to get a ton of writing done this semester, and it’s a beautiful feeling to be on the brink of that wild creative ride, in that teetering cart at the top of the rollercoaster.
The Task-Master |