Friday, June 03, 2016
I get encouragement from unexpected sources.
I'm not a person who's greatly disciplined.
I have routines that give me pleasure. The slog work I tend to avoid.
I envy others who can pack the slog and pleasure into a smooth run. I watch them wipe counters and brush up as they accomplish other tasks. Like a a ballet.
I'm a reactive housekeeper. I'll clean up like a mad thing if you're coming over. I've been known to pile up dishes because I don't have time to unload the dishwasher as I'm too busy binding a handcrafted afghan or immersed in an unputdownable book or writing a chapter or prepping a workshop.
I get private emails from those who read my blog. And sometimes it's a lash with a wet noodle.
One of them recently had me mulling - in a good way. (S)he questioned why I salivated over others' words in books when I should be working more on my own creative words.
Another, who lives in France, wrote me directly having lurked on my blog for years, and asked me why I'd never finished my thoughts on emigration from Ireland as she could relate. So yes, I need to concentrate more on writing.
I did write a piece on emigration but it was brutal, savage, blunt and harsh. And I hesitated with it, filed it away. But honesty can be brutal. Honesty can be harsh. But as Granny said: hesitation buys no tea.
Maybe I do need to back away for a while from distractions. And salt myself away in the Tigeen and write.
It wakes me up.
I need that.