So I’ve been invisible a few days: editing, editing, editing. Usually, I immensely dislike editing. I look forward to when I am finally a sought-after creative word slinger with editors falling at my feet.
I need one.
Alas, being out of the city and working on Book has shifted how I think and work in wonderful ways. I’ve made it through 100 pages so far. It took me three days straight, and my lover having to cop more than his share of, “Shhhh! I’m working! HUSH!”
In other news, my blah-g has officially reached OVER THREE MILLION READS. It took about five years, madness.
I’ve said this before, but special love to the Feeders. The biggest group of readers in our land has new licks shot directly to inbox land. That means a lot to me. As someone who entertains a modest amount of fellow Earth dwellers, sporadically – having an international cult that’s been checking in from Australia to Manhattan to the paradise retreat I somehow landed at recently… I keep that close to me.
I’ll have a really bitchin book to dig super soon… that one I’ve been on about doing since like, 2009.
A big problem I have with editing my work is my literal obsession over each word and sentence. Being a Poet who also writes fiction and narrative work, I find the different voices weave together in a way I feel is proudly unique to my writing. But sometimes, I find these overly esoteric phrases slipping into a story where they don’t quite jive.
Hopefully the next 200 pages is a little smoother. I’m trying to be easier on mySelf.
Namaste blog tribe
So a few days ago I was all “I need to blah-g every day” and then I got into writing poetry a bit and THEN I started hitting novel keys and suddenly two days went by and I was like, “Fuck. Remind me how I was in an office for 12 years, again?”
The fact that I worked Wall Street corporate aside, offices, in general, to me – are no bueno. The whole hunched over glowing screen in between moving from table to desk. This chair to that one…
It’s just not good for you.
I also don’t think it’s good working on someone else’s clock. On my own schedule, I wake up around 4/4.30am and go to sleep at 9. Considering I get to work from home now, it’s even better since those earliest hours are my most productive.
Don’t get me wrong, I have worked in some of the most beautiful offices in Manhattan and Melbourne. That doesn’t mean I want to be there eight hours a day.
I got a text message from one of my best mate’s earlier that said: So, I thought you were on holidays. Apparently, you moved and didn’t tell anyone.
I suppose in a way I did. I have to re-tally my moving statistics. It’s wonderful to be able to focus exclusively on my creative work, in between patting the llama and cuddling with goats.
The book is going sharp and bite-y. Just how I prefer it. Goddess willing this one will be done by the end of this New England winter.
I haven’t even mentioned how freezing it is…
ps. apologies for photo sharing delays lately. i’ve developed a love/hate relationship with patchy service.
evaporation (of self)
can you recall? reaching. without.darkness
was knowing how to smile. without. smiling
like a canvas with no painter. artless.
what do i know? a silence in writing.
i physically broke. time. 36 months
of panting and turning with no wake up.
and no one looked. for me… not even once.
i screamed and i smashed. i cracked. a glass cup
spilt. it’s ok. i can clean that. clear. gone.
a calculated step means no. erase.
she inhaled pollution and exhaled songs;
verses of better with no pace or race –
do you remember? how to walk? no… sound;
single rhythm dance. a place with no ground.
return to reoccur
My path to forward was led. By a(way) –
Leaving physical. Beyond direction.
Evolving souls have no concept of stay.
I burnt down. My world. Ashy reflection.
Cites erected. Then, tumbled back down –
A body. Fell. Naked. Skin against ground.
In a world of amnesia; wings are bound.
Taking no form means there’s no way around.
Weaving solitude I found re-connect –
A desire-less state. Breathing out. In.
I cashed in with life years and pressed collect.
Vowing every day. Soar. A simple whim.
I am. A sea with celestial shores;
Eradicate need, or anything more.
I’m still settling into the freedom that presented itself and is shining around me. It’s bloody freezing around here at the moment, many degrees below freezing – in fact.
Usually this makes me get cranky and go on tirades of returning to northern Australia. But considering where I am, that’s simply not the case.
I put a snowsuit on today and played outside with the puppies in between petting, feeding and prancing about with the animals on the property. I daydreamed a lot, then I cooked spinach and feta stuffed tomatoes with fresh basil and cracked black pepper.
I drank a lot of coffee, possibly too much, and read book chapters that brought me back straight to the center of what will always be one of my favorite cities on Earth.
I made a banana – strawberry smoothie and read the newspaper until it occurred to me… I don’t have to do that anymore. I’m not in a current events job that requires me to keep up with whatever the media is dishing.
So I put the paper away and had a hot chocolate instead.
I’m going to start painting and drawing in pastels. While I’ve had previous moments in life of knowing I’m exactly where I should be, this one trumps them all. As the shock settles, the words are unwinding. I think I’ll start writing poetry again every day.
Love to you, yours and ours blog family. Extra light to any of you suffering or addressing rough patches. Having been dealt my share over the past two years, I know it sounds cliche saying things do get better… perfect even.
If I wasn’t living it, I probably wouldn’t believe the idea of that either.