When I picked Daughter up from school yesterday she immediately asked me what we were going to do that evening. I told her we’d eat dinner and we’d play, but then I had to leave for Writing Group.
“What is Writing Group?” she asked.
Fair question, I thought. Glad I didn’t say I was going to Happy Hour.
“Well,” I told her, trying to figure out how to explain it, “Writing Group is when I get together with friends that like to write stories and we talk about them.”
“Do you write stories?”
“Yes,” I said, realizing that occasionally I do.
“Do you write stories for kids?”
“Well, not really, Kiddo. I’ve thought about it, but I haven’t.”
She’s quiet and I turn onto Minnehaha Avenue from her school’s parking lot.
“Kiddo, would you want me to write a story for kids.”
“What do you think I should write about?”
This is where I got excited. Actually, the whole conversation was exciting, but I never expected a writing prompt from my 4.5YO.
And after some hesitation, she started.
“I think you should write a story about Ariel. The mermaid.”
I smile broadly, but keep quiet.
“And My Little Pony. Ariel and My Little Pony. Can you write a story about that?”
I quietly chuckle.
Of course. Her two favorite characters of the week. A Disney mermaid (Hey, if she had to go Disney, I’m glad she went with the one that can swim.) and a group of Ponies that I know nothing about, but I’m learning quickly.
“Yes, kiddo, I can write a story about Arial and the Ponies.”
Or at least I can write a blog post.
So, I’ve got a few days off. And like yesterday, I’m doing a good job filling up the time. Today, after I drop daughter off, I plan to go for a quick run, then tour another school, drop off more stuff at a consignment shop, get a massage, walk the dogs, the pick up the kid so we can go on a field trip to Ikea. Somewhere in there, I hope to write, if only for a few minutes.
Why is it so stinking hard to write? Not just to find the time, but to actually sit down and put pen to paper and fingers to keyboard. I have no problem getting myself to vacuum or workout or curl up with a book, but to actually do the act of writing? That’s horrifying. Yet, the list of what I want to write keeps growing. Is all that material just incubating? Waiting until the timing is right to slide down my shoulders, into my fingers and onto the page?
I sure hope so. Because there ain’t a whole lot of writing going on in these parts right now.
At least I wrote this.
PS: Look who’s back after 10 days at Grandma & Grandpas. They were so thrilled to see each other. Above they’re even holding paws!
PSS: THis photo is deceiving. He weighs only 15 lbs, she’s probably over 50.
It’s Monday and I have ten more minutes to myself in the coffee shop before I go through another school tour, stop by the office (quickly) and drop some clothes at the consignment shop. It’s my first of three days with me. Husband is at work, Daughter is at school, so it’s me and the dogs. I have lots planned, but hopefully not too much. Hopefully I can spend some time in this space and get my writing project back up and running.
Ten days off, but just three all to myself. How is it that this time goes so quickly? An hour to run to the bank, an hour to workout, a few minutes in the book store, time stuck in traffic and then the day is gone!
Here, the coffee shop is packed. And I overhear bits of conversations. One man has a newborn son, yet lingers over coffee with his buddy. Two women in dreadlocks, who look quite a bit alike, have just dropped their kids at school and are chatting with a couple of older women. An older guy is cutting out soda. The proprietor, who appears to know everyone, is running a race for charity on Thanksgiving Day with his partner. And he’s not cooking.
I love listening to the bits and pieces. Life is full of all sorts of bits and pieces. Today my bits and pieces feel all consuming. But at least they’re mine.
I’ve been missing from this place. Have you noticed? I have. I had major deadlines at work last week, but finally on Thursday things were quiet. Then the weekend hit and there were outings and ice times and hockey games and a showing. Now it’s Monday night and I’m finally able to sit down with myself and write.
Tomorrow we are having yet another showing. I have no idea how many groups have been through our home, but they keep coming. And while we have a contingent offer, we’re still able to show the house in hopes that a stronger offer comes in. Eventually it will. Eventually we’ll be done and we’ll pack and we’ll haul our stuff across town. Yet, we have no idea where that place will be across town. Or when.
It makes it hard to plan ahead. It makes it hard to find a school. It makes it hard to think of anything that’s more than 30 days out. And if you know me you know I like to plan ahead. Yes, even sometimes beyond those 30 days. It makes everything feel like it’s on hold.
Half our stuff is in storage. Photo albums, toys, cake pans, random bits of our lives that we’re missing but don’t realize aren’t here. Most of those things could probably stay in storage forever and we wouldn’t care, but it’s the little things that I miss. My paints, Daughter’s doll house, those cake pans.
And someday we will unpack it. We’ll enter a house that is empty and bare and we’ll gradually make it our own. My easel and paints and sewing machine and supply of paper will find it’s way back to me. Daughter’s doll house and zip car and pipe cleaners will land in her new playroom. Those cake pans and the immersion blender and all those fancy champagne flutes will be unwrapped and lined up neatly. Somewhere. Someday. Somehow.
Meanwhile we wait. We wait.
As you probably know, National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWrMo) started lasted Friday with the start of November. I am not participating. Or not officially. Or not at all. But in the spirit of the whole idea, I am promising myself that I will write something every day this month. And grocery lists don’t count. Friday I wrote about 200 words. Saturday about the same. Sunday I watched this video about storyboarding your book. Monday I made a list of my 25 islands (See Sunday). I have no idea what I’ll write later today.
But I know I’ll write.