Writers are Human

I got too far ahead of myself and crashed. Maybe. Not sure. All I know is I was unable to attend the launches and workshops this weekend. I left the first all-day event after an hour. The second day, shortly before leaving the house, I knew I wouldn't make it. The worst for me was not being there to show support for my friends at their reading events. Because that’s what writers do. We support each other.

A tension headache and fatigue had me changing into my worn cords and ancient sweatshirt and burrowing beneath the comforter. Four hours later, I stumbled out of bed with a dull ache behind my eyes and tightness down the back of my neck and across my shoulders. Foggy brained, I sank into a fragrant bubble bath. It felt indescribably good. The hot water helped ease the tension from my shoulders and neck.

My mind shifted to food. Soon, with minimal effort, my senses stirred with the smell of ground meat, simmering onions, peppers, and mushrooms in seasoned tomatoes. When the rice was cooked, dinner was ready. Though my head was still achy, after a hot cup of green tea I decided to write my blog.

It’s been a crazy two weeks. I have to put the fun back in writing and realize my limitations. The first thing I will do is clear my desk. Next, make a list of priorities and deadlines. Schedule some me time. I’m thinking clearer already.

It's not helping that we’re experiencing unseasonable weather − sunshine has  practically been non-existent. It’s rained almost every day. Sometimes snow mixed with the rain. Ditches are overflowing and fields are small pools. On a positive note, I got to wear my black and yellow rain boots a lot over the last few days. I even wore my shiny red and yellow boots – the ones my granddaughters love the best – to a meeting last week. And forget about side-stepping puddles. Kids are right. It’s fun to walk right through them. But no jumping!

There were other enjoyable activities. Aside from working on my novel, I read a suspense filled book of short stories by Jean Rae Baxter entitled Scattered Light. I enjoyed it so much that even with my stack of books to read, I will re-read this one. Writing a review for this book is one of those priorities that will be on my list. I have another book smouldering on the arm of my chair but it will be a few days until I can read, review, and attempt to arrange an interview with the author. I say ‘attempt to arrange’ because the author is ... well, let’s see if I get the interview.

Speaking of authors, it was a pleasure to meet author Ann Towell this week. Ann writes MG and YA historical fiction and is the author of Grease Town published by Tundra/Random House. Meeting for the first time, we found common ground immediately, as happens with most writers,  and enjoyed our shared experiences over a leisurely lunch. I look forward to seeing Ann again. 

In closing, I’d like to say that although it’s been hectic, confusing, and mostly exasperating, the week had some shining moments. I questioned if writing is the way I should be spending my life. Then in two separate incidents, comments directed to me made me realize something. Maybe what I’m doing is not about me at all.