When you’re having fun
The days fly by when I am productive.
I love that.
Except when it means the end of the summer will get here faster.
Howdy, partner
Another dating prospect. He asks in written form, “What is the one dream in your life you most look forward to coming true?” Ha. An easy one.
“I’m focused on two right now,” I respond. “Getting my book written and published. And traveling around Europe.”
I throw the same question back to him. His response?
“Finding my loving partner.”
Ouch. Now what does it say about me that that answer didn’t even occur to me?
Hmmmm. I think it says that I have things I’m excited about in my life and that it is important to me to be accomplished and see more of the world. A loving partner would potentially make all of that much more enjoyable or meaningful, perhaps.
Or maybe it means I’m so freakin’ independent that I need to occasionally sit up and pay attention to all the beautiful men out there.
Yep. It’s probably a little of both.
Declaration
I wrote my butt off today.
That’s all.
Big, Big Love
I have watched a lot of television in my day, but never have I said “What the f–k” so many times in the span of an hour as when I watch Big Love. What in the world is going on in Utah?
That show, especially the last few weeks, is riveting. You think The Sopranos was violent and scheming and immoral? Try this series depicting life as a Mormon on for size.
Tonight’s episode posed some striking juxtaposition, as Bill Paxton’s character (a polygamist with three wives, for those not in the loop) tells his 16-year-old son to stop having sex because his body is his temple. The next thing we see is Daddy Dearest get spurned in bed by one wife, only to move to another nearby residence for some serious action with his third wife. She worshipped at his temple, all right.
This is great television. But religion?
What the f–k.
Filling the well
Just watched My Super Ex-Girlfriend and while it wasn’t riveting, it had a nice over-arching message about love. I was intrigued primarily because my book has a magical component and I wanted to see how another artist handled the challenges of that kind of story.
Nice diversion. Nice lesson.
Nice.
Wings
I have spoken to two people in the last 48 hours who are following their bliss. I am drawn to these stories like a bee to honey.
One young woman is quitting her job to travel with her grandmother for a month in Vietnam and then going to India on her own. Then, who knows? She is in her 20s and knows what she wants and she believes in going after it.
Another is an older man who has always lived on the East Coast. He and his wife are moving to Oregon to begin anew in a different kind of urban setting. There are wonderful adventures awaiting them in close proximity — Canada, California, etc.
These feel organic and right. It is more the norm in our society to stay in the ho-hum job or place and just exist and that makes me crazy. It’s such an unnatural choice. Their choices are courageous.
The honey tastes so good.
Perfect choreography
A day of being in The Universal Flow:
I go to the laundromat with my clothes early in the morning. While they wash I go to a cafe for some breakfast and journal writing. I go back to the laundromat and call my sister. She is heading to her manicure appointment. She’ll call me back in an hour, she says.
I go home, grab dirty sheets and towels and take my sweaty self back out in the humidity to the laundromat. As I’m leaving my apartment, the exterminator comes for his monthly maintenance appointment. Extraordinary timing. I finally get back to the laundromat and decide to read until my sister calls back.
I am reading Writing The Breakout Novel by Donald Maass, specifically the chapter called “Contemporary Plot Techniques.” And so I come across this: A … form of the character-driven plot is the journey of self-discovery … [it] is like the hero’s journey, except the prize to be won is not an object that will save the world but a transformation that will save one soul. Alas, I now have the answer when someone asks what kind of fiction I’m writing.
While I am reveling in this, my sister calls back. We chat. She leaves for the mall. I bring my clothes home.
I begin writing a synopsis of my book, delightfully implementing some of the things I’ve read and excited that I feel like I read the exact thing I needed at the exact time I needed it. Meanwhile, my sister is out shopping to her heart’s content.
Hours later, I take a break from writing. My sister calls. She has just had a shopping trip where almost every store she visited held some kind of pleasant surprise. She wonders if she manifested it. I tell her she is in The Universal Flow.
Me, too.
Great escapes
I’m getting excited about my beach vacation and my writing workshop getaway. That’ll be a week off, a week on, a week off. Yeeha.
I deserve the hell out of this.
Bring it.
My magic desk
I have the kind of joy that can only come from a writing deadline and a great spot in my home at which to meet it. I never would have thought a desk could make such a difference in how I feel about working at home, but it is a transformative thing.
And to think, I manifested this desk. Yes, you read that right. I willed this piece of furniture into my apartment.
Back in February or so, I decided that the sweet wicker desk I bought some 20 years ago was ready to be retired. Not only had it seen better days, it was small and not so easy to work on. So I carefully measured the spot — height, width, length — and started carrying the measurements around in my Filofax.
I went to Staples, Target, The Container Store and any number of other stores in Manhattan to see what was out there and what fit in my budget. Several months into the process, I found out we were getting new desks at my “day” job. I asked what would be done with the “old” desks and, long story short, my boss gave me one.
Now let me tell you, this is a real desk. It is a large, tinted piece of glass sitting atop a black architectural stand of sorts. I don’t think I can do it justice here, but it’s fabulous and practical.
As a former sports writer who got used to writing in little gymnasiums and raucous arenas, I know I can write anywhere. It’s in my blood. But this desk, which faces a window that looks at a church with lovely stained glass windows, beckons me to it. My book wants to be written here.
I manifested a desk and I’m darned proud of it.
A deep breath
There has been a lot of forgiveness in this day. I feel cleansed.
