Thursday, July 22, 2010

Late Nights

Well, it's 12:45 AM here on the creek. The moon is shining only half-full, and Buddy, my basset hound, is sleeping on the couch, as per usual. Now and again, some wayward night creature howls or yowls from the woods behind the house, and I catch a glimpse of a deer making his/her way across the lawn and toward the water. Unlike the citizens of Churchill, Manitoba (I'm hoping I got the province right), I'm not facing polar bears as they follow their migration route down main street; however, deer migrate from their hide-outs in the woods to open pasture at night.

Why am I up? Well, normally I'm not, but my daughter is heading home from a business trip to Chicago. I thought I'd wait up to welcome her home and get some writing done in the mean time, but 'the best laid plans' and all that. I find that I do my best writing in short spurts not those long, laborious eight hour stints I used to pull. Oh, I got a lot of words in when I forced myself to sit in my relatively uncomfortable desk chair and write. Nowadays, I'm not doing that to myself. Nowadays, I'm writing when the inspiration strikes, and I don't keep pushing if that same inspiration dwindles away. It's called self-preservation.

I still have the same desire to be published, but I'm not so willing to kill myself in doing it. I WILL get an agent. Of that, I am certain. However, I must exercise patience along with all that perseverance. Between the day job and the nightly sojourns into Creative-ville, I've allowed very little time for me to be me. Wisdom comes to those who wait.

Monday, July 5, 2010


Okay. I'm giving up on worrying, just like I gave up on guilt. Both practices are totally non-productive, as a wise man once told me. They serve no purpose except to steal any joy that might come. I'm not into allowing anyone or anything to steal my joy (it's such a rare commodity!)

The fourth of July has come and gone, the fireworks have fizzled out, and I am back at my keyboard. Writing has been more challenge than joy lately, but as I said, I simply refuse to allow the joy I take in the written word to be pilfered by my own insecurities. As of yet, I am an unpublished novelist, but I have been published: Raving Dove, Raphael's Village, EXIT 109, and others. True. I've been published mostly as a poet, but I've sneaked in a few essays and short stories. My days as an AGENTED and PUBLISHED novelist approaches. I refuse to have any doubts.

One day, readers will stumble across this blog and discover that ALL writers have insecurities, fears that their work doesn't come up to muster, and doubts that they'll ever see their name on a book jacket. I sound bold and confident here, but just a few short posts ago, I was wallowing in the quagmire of desperation. Comes with writing territory, I suppose. Keep up with me folks. Better days are coming. More words, more hope, and more works in print. Persistence wins the game, not that runner who shows well out of the gate but loses advantage in the long haul.

Keep smiling. Keep sending up skyrockets, and don't spare the word count!