First, The Beginning
I broke my foot, thank God.
If it weren't for the broken foot, I wouldn't be sitting here, at my computer, writing the opening stanza in a blog. I wouldn't have completed twenty poems.
I wouldn't have had words and worlds falling from my fingertips into my novel, filling it up like
the malnourished, hungry thing it was. Full time work, marriage, children and one heinous math class equaled a novel left in the crib, sucking it's proverbial thumb, waiting to be picked up.
So I did, and ' Agitate My Heart ', my second novel, is coming along beautifully, half way finished and flourishing.
After I broke my foot, I set up a routine- take kids to school, pick up iced coffee, feed dogs and cat and kittens, and set up in the sunroom at my computer, writing.
And as Norman Mailer says in his book, " The Spooky Art " , the routine indicated to my brain that at a certain time every day, I was going to write, and apparently, if you sit it, the words will come. Sit on it, Potsie.
I am a prolific writer of poems, whereas the novel comes along at a slow pace, with constant editing.
Then, the Middle
What Will Be Posted?
- book reviews
- various rants
- poetry
- links to other far off places
- dispatches from parenthood
- recommendations for books, movies, art
and of course, notes on the writing life, and all it encompasses.
Interlude for Lists
We have one cat, Kagome, and three kittens: Hermione, Harry and Hagrid.
Yes, we love Harry Potter here.
Two Dogs: Bodie Muchachas and Wolfgang Mozart.
Children: Lola Moon, Dakota Wolf and Ian Oliver.
Ambitions: Published poet and novelist, quit my day job, travel extensively, love well, help children in any way possible, conquer fear, cultivate a flourishing garden, swim naked in the ocean again, touch a dolphin, own horses, live on a farm, raise a puppy, watch my children grow, write as a journalist, experience joy, be of good use.
Begin Again
' i am tired. i am true of heart. you are tired. you are true of heart.'
-dave eggers
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A Room of her Own...
When I first read Virginia Woolf's essay as a freshman at university I was not yet a mother. However I had grown up as the daughter of a single mother who due to harsh circumstances and interesting choices spent most of her waking hours slave waging to feed, clothe, and house me and my younger sibling. I do not remember at time when my mother spent anytime at rest with herself, taking time for self reflection or even outside observation. I think this denial of a "room" in which to explore her identity and motivations definitely contributed to her inability to make important changes in her life that might have helped her to break the poverty cycle she remains in today. She simply lived in survival mode, as I read Woolf's essay I did not realize that I too would soon be entering in to that same role as the sole provider of a young child. Although I am not in the situation my mother was in I do struggle and this hinders my will to find time for myself to actually write, not every now and again but daily, hourly, just for release as I did most of my life. I attempting in my own small way to regain time for myself to not just write but reflect and observe the world around me. I am excited about your new blog and I am pleased someone as gifted as you is finding "room" to write and create. It is an inspiration.
Sorry to hear about the foot=).
peace love and emapthy
escrita.
I grew up in varying stages of poverty as well, Sueke. It is 'poverty of the soul' that concerns me most... but the financial is a close second.
I am happy to see you here.
A nice start to a blog. I am constantly looking for blogs by writers. They're so much nicer than the ones full of trivia. I look forward to keeping up with you, especially since we have a lot of ambitions in common.
I hope you stay with it even when you're all healed.
Jen
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