The holidays tend to push everything out of the way. It happened to me. That’s okay. But the holidays are done, it’s a new year, and everything is bright and shiny.
So get to work!
What—it’s too cold out? Gloomy? Or you live where the sun is hot and you feel too sluggish?
I understand. I’m in the same situation. So this is what I did.
It’s been an interesting year. I published my novel Magical Ties and my short story “In the Smoke” appeared in the anthology Smoke: Tales Between Dark and Light. Also, I copyedited a wonderful cookbook by Roberta Roberti, World Party: Vegetarian Appetizers, Hors d’oeuvres and Party Plates, and maintained my blog for the second year.
And yet, it feels like I did nothing. I know it’s not productive to look at other people, but to read that so-and-so wrote two novels in a year and a screenplay and trains beagles on the side…okay, that’s an exaggeration, but you get the idea. It seems like I should be doing more.
Why are we so hard on ourselves? Writing a novel is a long, grueling race, sometimes like running through molasses. And there’s no guarantee of any kind of success. Yet we write on.
The only thing to do is write.
Book two is percolating, leaving me multiple scenarios running through my mind and handwritten scraps of paper floating from surface to surface in the living room while a Word doc has scenes waiting to be placed in the right order. It’s filling me to the brim and very soon I’ll be sitting down and putting it all into a more coherent mess. I find that I miss the people and I’m looking forward to what happens to them in the new year.
I guess if the point of this year was to continue me into the next, pen and keyboard ready, that’s a better year than I thought.
Not forever! But take a week or two to recharge. Do something completely unrelated to writing. Walk. Cook. Hit the gym. Color in coloring books. Go to a concert.
I finished my hat. It’s difficult to see since it’s all black (well, I am a New Yorker 🙂 ), but black also hides the errors so I’m pleased with it for now.
But more than that, it was something tangible coming to life in my hands. Counting rows forced me to concentrate on the yarn and pegs. There was no way to foster a story idea unless I wanted a really bad hat. Sometimes I focus so much on how to use things in my writing, I miss the point of the object—to just admire or let it be.
So step away from the keyboard and pen for a week. Then see where your thoughts take you.
Oh, and for anyone who wants to see how I made the hat (or try your hand at it) here’s the YouTube vid I used:
LOOM KNITTING Hat for All Sizes
Full disclosure: I was the copy editor of this book. In case you think that makes me want to gush, think again. I had to look at each page with a critical eye. I could not allow myself to be swayed by the pretty pictures or charming anecdotes. Each recipe needed to be thought out and visualized. I’ve read too many cookbooks that omitted a step or even an ingredient. (One cookbook listed a recipe in its index and in one of its menus but left out the actual recipe.)
World Party was a pleasure. I learned food facts that were artfully interspersed with recipes, and was introduced to ingredients far outside my comfort zone. I bookmarked dishes to try and cautiously considered others. Roberta Roberti’s book showed me how deficient I am in the world’s cuisine. Here are a few of the recipes she gives and the country each is from:
Barbados
Black Bean Cakes with Mango-Peach Salsa
Ecuador
Morocho/Spiced Corn Drink
Ireland
Pub Ale Cheese Spread
Kenya
M’baazi/Coconut Beans
Norway
Lefse/Potato Crepes
Spain
Aceitunas Fritas/Fried Olives
Turkey
Piyaz/White Bean Salad
I hope you’ll take a look and try this cookbook for the simple pleasure of tempting one’s palate with flavors that might be familiar—or, more excitingly, are not.
World Party: Vegetarian Appetizers, Hors d”oeuvres and Party Plates
Black Friday just passed and today is Cyber Monday. I barely bought anything, although a good friend scored some fabulous—and needed—items.
And there’s the important word. Needed.
Fortunately for me, I got hit with the decluttering bug last week. It’s made me aware that I didn’t want to bring anything new into the house (not even the DVD marked down from $13.99 to $4) unless I loved or needed it.
But I need a hat. And, given the shopping holiday, I could probably score a good deal on one I like.
Instead, last night I pulled one of my circle looms out of the closet. With many YouTube videos waiting for me, instead of the quick fix of buying, I decided to take the slow route. I’m going to loom knit a hat.
I’m sure there are many people who could whip one out in a few hours. I’m not one of them and that’s fine. I find looping yarn over the pegs to be meditative and soothing. It frees my mind to think. Or not think. And best of all, it’s good to finally start using some of the yarn I stocked up on last winter in a frenzy.
There’s no major point I’m trying to make here. Shopping is fine. Not shopping is fine too. But the feel of yarn running through my fingers as I hold the loom feels really good.
I love Lucifer.
The TV show, that is. But I have friends who refuse to watch because they don’t want to attract the real deal to them. They believe in the Devil.
Another writer I know writes horror. Recently, she came across someone who told her not to get involved in things like that. That it could be dangerous.
What to do, what to do.
First off, I’m not going to stop writing something because it might make someone else uncomfortable. And if they really believe that people can draw evil, or the devil, or some other malevolent entity toward them by saying their name (shades of Voldemort!), well, that’s their deal.
Not mine.
Do people believe that mystery writers draw murderers to them? And if I suddenly write about unicorns, will one turn up in my backyard? I admit that would be cool, but if the virginity thing is a problem it wouldn’t stay near me. Pity.
What do we do about well-meaning people who tell us to stop writing for reasons that strike us as ridiculous?
It could mean they’re sincerely worried. I’ll listen politely, although it won’t change my mind. But it could also be a bit of ego (“I know better than you, dear”) with control issues.
So here are my rules.
Writing comes from our soul. Even the dark and twisty stuff are our toys to play with on paper or computer screen (and maybe, if we’re lucky, on the TV or movie screen later), but it’s our stuff. It’s fun, it’s serious, it’s cathartic, it’s whatever we want it to be. Writing about demons who are serial killers doesn’t mean I have one in my closet. My cat likes to snooze in there and he has no intentions of sharing.
Write.
See everyone next week. 🙂
This year I went a little upstate with a friend for the day. We had three goals: foliage watching, shopping, and eating at Gasho’s. We achieved all three and here are a few pictures to enjoy (I’ll spare you the shopping):
Once upon a time, in the far-off land of the Bronx, a high school English teacher told her class that it was important to know how to speak in public. So, she created a spell—I mean, she told everyone to create a two-minute speech on any topic they liked, and each of us would speak in front of the class.
I chose vampires.
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