Work in Progress

In Speaking into the Silence on September 22, 2008 at 6:49 am

Often on Monday’s I feel compelled to review the activities of the weekend.  Ours started out with a show in San Clemente at the Coachhouse.  Lindsay and I got to see a buddy debut his new album in front of a couple hundred people.  I enjoyed seeing him step out with his art.

Our Saturday consisted of many busyings to prepare for Sunday, which was reserved entirely for rest.  Among other things, I played a round of frisbee golf with a friend.  We were confronted with a fee as we began the course.  Apparently, they charge $2 per person on weekends and $1 on week nights through the city of Huntington Beach.  We were both leary of the fee, but paid it to get on with our game.

I completed a couple of house projects including replacing the tracks on our sliding closet doors and hanging a shelf, which I had hung crooked to begin with.  It looked fine to me before.  Now, it looks more fine.  Our Saturday busyings also included restocking our cupboards, which had become chaotic.  After our Yosemite roadtrip, items had been repeatedly stuffed in.  There remained no access to critical snacks and cooking ingredients.  We finished our long day with a 9 o’clock trip to the grocery store.

Yesterday, was a day of releasing all the doings.  We came home from a church service with no agenda.  We rested.  We made our lunch with a platter of salami, mozzerella cheese, crackers, grapes, and bread dipped in an olive oil/balsamic vinegar/pepper combo.  From there, we read and napped and lounged.  I had a few conversations with family and friends.  Then, we finished the day off with a trip to Beach Berries for Lindsay’s favorite frozen yogurt.

As I begin a new week, I am a bit apprehensive about all that it will entail.  I tire of going to the same job and long for new possibilities to open up.  My writing has been met with resistance.  All of the critical, accusing voices become louder as I set out to write, whether fiction or prose.  Though I still enjoy the expression and act of writing, my words are deeply pressed.  The glory and romance of writing has disappeared and I face only the grit and determination required of me.

Stories of perseverence, struggling and persistence ring in my ears; the future uncertain.  And straining toward my prize remains the only worthwhile venture.  Standing still is not an option and wandering off from the task is unthinkable.  Fortunately, I do not go alone.  There are those who have gone before me.  Martin Dugard and Madeleine L’Engle have been of special import lately.

Dugard told of his leaving the corporate realm in his story ‘Surviving the Toughest Race on Earth.’  Having acknowledged John Townsend at the end, Martin Dugard has been this way before.  My other companion for solace in the writing way has been Madeleine L’Engle.  Her book ‘Circle of Quiet’ offers her creative ruminations about a life of writing.  Mostly in retrospect, L’Engle shares her responsibility as a writer.  She needed to write the best book she could at that time.  This speaks to the perfectionist in me who would not write the words for fear that they are not as good as they could be.  My responsibility is to write the book.  That is all.

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