Recently, I asked some questions regarding a piece I have been working on. It's been brewing for awhile. I wrote it in one fell swoop, set it aside, came back to it and re-hashed and re-arranged and re-thought. It took quite some time, but I felt good when I was done. I don't get a lot of feedback so I sent it to someone asking some questions. There was a delay in the response. I asked again. Finally, I got one. It was a response where the gloves were off. Not in a bad way, but in an honest, this-is-for-your own-good sort-of-way, and after I recovered from the intitial blow (it was soft, but a blow nonetheless), I started wondering if I really do have what it takes to be a writer. I liked the insight, the honesty, the frank dissection of my work, but it felt a little like that dreadful peeling of the cow's eyeball you might have been lucky eough to do in 4th grade. It was kind of eerie and kind of cool all at the same time. You want to go back for more, but should you?
At any rate, the whole experience has left me pondering questions and which end I prefer to be on. I could live in my happy bubble toiling away, or I could put myself out there. Bubbles certainly have less drama. But what might I be missing? Now that is the real question.
"Grandpa," I said, "cows are big."
He chuckled again. "Yep."
This speaks to me. More frequently than I care to admit. Which I just did, which says too much about me. Again. Anyway, when hubster and I are in a negative zone, or I should say, when the kids are in a negative zone, one of us will simply say, "Peck." Two minutes later, the other replies, "Peck." This can continue for sometime depending on how long the negative cloud hangs around. Astute Things may take notice of pecking and inquire. More often than not, we shrug and continue until it seems the cloud has disappeared. How this does anyone any good is beyond me. Maybe it's some trippy psychological technique that hasn't been officially approved yet prevents us from ripping out hair or leaping from windows. God knows there are enough science "experiences" in this house. I don't need further research or even affirmation. Keeping my hair in tact and windows unbroken is good enough, and we all know good enough is great for me.
I made a promise to myself with the new year that I would write more. To that end, I decided to carve out time for this at a time when I feel fresh and others are not likey to bother me. So far, this is how my morning goes:
5:20....I smell my coffee perking and it lures me up before the alarm goes off.
5:25....I sit and stare at the computer. Most often I write crap for 10 minutes before something comes to me.
5:40...."I wet the bed I wet the bed I wet the bed!" roars from Thing 2's room so I trudge in to help and pack him off to
5:45....Thing 2 is up and ready for the day...dressed, humming in the kitchen, deciding on her breakfast. I plead for alone time. She sulks off to her room...with music blasting.
5:47....The dog barks a lot. I forgot I let her out. Now she is in and demanding attention. From me.
5:50....I forgot what I was writing. I have been up and down 5 times since I started and whatever thoughts I had have left. More
crap is written to be deleted soon.
6:00....Screw it. Maybe the news will jar something.
6:05....I will check Facebook. I have a few real writer friends who have published BOOKS for chris sake. Let me find out what
they are up to. At least I can feel someone's success from afar.
6:15....Check blogs of other successful people and whine more to myself.
6:20....Glad I made no promises to anyone...except to myself. Well, shit.