Summertime doesn't lend itself to full-depth writing, at least not for me. School is out and so is the slip-n' slide. Kids are everywhere, as are blue skies, green forests, and salty water. I heed the call.
I think this has changed since becoming a parent. I'm fairly certain I wrote with the same general velocity during summers as during the cold, grey days of winter. It was much more about whether the muse was showing up than if the kids needed me to help carry the raft for them.
I think this is a good thing, for lots of reasons. I think it's good to flex and change, to disrupt my routines for no reason but maybe a little fun. I might, sometimes, just the teeniest bit, get a little too work-focused.
It's also good because getting away from work and yes, even getting away from story, also feeds hte ceatove fire. I'm the kind f girl for whom like begets like--writing begets more writing, eating tiramisu begets eating more tira--
Well, you get the point.
But there's also space for, well, space. For all the loves of my life, which includes family as much as story. Room for all the angles of who I am, which if friend and wife and mom. The past few summers have been all about deadlines, and my family got shortchanged in a major way.
It happens. It's the business.
But this summer, I'm letting the other parts get top billing, and writing is taking a bit of a back stage. The stories are percolating, especially when I lay in bed at night or, if I have time, first thing in the morning, before I crawl out of bed. I write down ideas, some days even take a few hours to work, btu it's all split up by jogs down the block after the ice cream truck and trips to the beach and bike rides on trails. For the most part, I'm letting the stories do their own thing this summer without a lot of interference from me.
I'm pretty sure the stories will be all the better for it. I'm fairly certain I will be too.
I think this has changed since becoming a parent. I'm fairly certain I wrote with the same general velocity during summers as during the cold, grey days of winter. It was much more about whether the muse was showing up than if the kids needed me to help carry the raft for them.
I think this is a good thing, for lots of reasons. I think it's good to flex and change, to disrupt my routines for no reason but maybe a little fun. I might, sometimes, just the teeniest bit, get a little too work-focused.
It's also good because getting away from work and yes, even getting away from story, also feeds hte ceatove fire. I'm the kind f girl for whom like begets like--writing begets more writing, eating tiramisu begets eating more tira--
Well, you get the point.
But there's also space for, well, space. For all the loves of my life, which includes family as much as story. Room for all the angles of who I am, which if friend and wife and mom. The past few summers have been all about deadlines, and my family got shortchanged in a major way.
It happens. It's the business.
But this summer, I'm letting the other parts get top billing, and writing is taking a bit of a back stage. The stories are percolating, especially when I lay in bed at night or, if I have time, first thing in the morning, before I crawl out of bed. I write down ideas, some days even take a few hours to work, btu it's all split up by jogs down the block after the ice cream truck and trips to the beach and bike rides on trails. For the most part, I'm letting the stories do their own thing this summer without a lot of interference from me.
I'm pretty sure the stories will be all the better for it. I'm fairly certain I will be too.
I hope your summer is a shaping up to be time for you to follow the loves of your life, too!
We'll catch up in the autumn!
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