I suppose I should have said, in that last entry, that I’m not blocked. I firmly believe writer’s block does not exist. The problem is scraping the bottom of the barrel of emotional energy, because writing takes fuel. So I’ve been chipping words out of the cerebellum, one at a time. Hammering and hammering until it gets done.
Today I put everything else on the back burner. My only hard points were: writing, running, childcare. No errands, no appointments, no field trips. Just the run, the sentence, the children. Really, those are the only things that matter, all else is in service to them. I could strip it down further and say that the care of children is the only important thing. Running keeps me fit enough to handle my responsibilities, and writing feeds the little ones and keeps me going so I can be effective for them.
“Little ones”, I say, as if my daughter isn’t in high school already. Jesus, where did the time go? You get so used to putting one foot in front of the other, surviving from breath to breath and moment to moment, and then…glancing up, you realize the mountains are behind you, and another range looms before. Rearrange your pack, glance at the woods around you, and go back to doing it one step at a time.
I suppose this is what life is.
Anyway. The weather is cooler, though the autumn rains haven’t started yet. I’m much more of a winter writer; I’m at my most productive when the drops are hitting the roof and the moss and grass explode into juicy green. Bring on the gray days, bring on the damp, bring on sweaters and thick socks and lots of bread baking and stew simmering. I’m ready.
But first, I just have to get through today.
*dives back in*