A Writer’s Awakening
January 8, 2017
I feel like I’ve
just woken up, and I’m reminded of the Yeats’ poem, “Speech After Long Silence.”.
I haven’t written anything new, except blogs, for at least nine months. I haven’t
had the instinct. I had four mss..with “starts” and no idea how to go any
further with any of them. When people asked what I was working on, I replied, “Managing
my career.” I was stalled.
One of the things
that happened to me was common to “elderly” people—my meds were fighting with
each other. At one point I had hallucinations—fascinating people
had soirees and picnics and art exhibits in my back yard. When I told my
neighbor, he asked, “Why don’t they invite us? We’re fun.” But it wasn’t a
joke. My kids and the surgical team jumped in and got it straightened out—I take
fewer meds these days, and no wine, and my head is much more clear.
The other thing
happening to me was that I was in pain. My leg hurt and my hip hurt. That’s
been sorted out too—the leg has healed, and the end of hip pain is in sight
with hip surgery scheduled.
With all this “cleaning
up my act,” I’ve had a resurgence of interest in writing. I spent the last week
reading the 40,000 words I had on a new mystery (I can’t imagine I abandoned
something that was at least 2/3 done) and today I wrote a thousand new words. I
find I’m wildly enthusiastic about getting back to it, and last night when I went
to bed I was plotting what I’d write today. Other writing chores—those “managing
my career” things seem to intrude. But I
have older titles to make available as e-books. I’m sending one to a formatter,
which requires some preparation on my part, and will post others to a site
where I can do it myself—except that I couldn’t do it Friday and have written
for help. And on down the line I think I have a publication possibility for a
novella. My desk is piled high and I couldn’t be happier about it.
The manuscript I’ve
returned to is a sequel to The Perfect
Coed with college English professor Dr. Susan Hogan. This time she’s trying
to foil a group of open-carry advocates (but it turns out there’s more to their
story). And she’s trying to protect Aunt Jenny and her new dog, Lucy. I like it
so far, and I hope you will too.
Meantime I’m in a
wheelchair with 24-hour help—mostly Jordan but different folk at night. It’s a
funny feeling to wake in the morning to an unvaried routine—work, eat, sleep,
work, eat and go to bed at night, sometimes unsure who will answer if I wake in
the night. I’m glad it’s temporary. Surgery is January 19—yes, it looms on my
mind—and two weeks from now I expect to be yet another new person—a writer.
Whoopee!
