I ran away again for the weekend. Into the woods. I met a lovely woman on the train traveling north who cuddled Frankie the entire way and chatted with me about how she’s preparing for a dog or two.
And then, once again, I hid in the forest for a few days.
Entering my second summer, back in the states. I find myself shedding hideous memories that once were relevant. I am aware, and responsible, for the impact that my despair has taken on my body and spirit. I finally feel like crawling out of a hole I didn’t realize I was crouching in – for some time now.
My first mission outside of the hole is to be done with Novel and start writing my next script, or whatever may come. I feel like this particular project has sucked enough guts out of me and I am quite ready for something new.
On that note, I’m joining the pool downstairs this week. I fancy a swim. And it’s fun living in the same plaza as a fitness center. I need to shake my body and make my heart beat. I spend such a number of hours crouched over paper; dreaming, telling and picturing. I need to go to a land of straight bodies and toned stomachs. Exercise helps, even though I generally hate it.
I think I can spend the rest of summer shedding bothersome ideas. The best advice I’ve ever heard is “There’s always something lighter.”
So a bestie of mine phoned earlier to advise that he’s dropping one of our other bestie’s off at JFK airport at 3am then swinging over.
I’m expecting him somewhere between 3.30 – 4am.
A lover gave me Bulgari perfume and fresh cut flowers yesterday. The gesture shocked me. I’m 34 years old, no man has ever presented be with glass contained fragrance before. Furthermore, the gesture was extraordinarily considerate seeing as this particular perfume is the only thing outside of essential oils that’s really made me want to scent my skin with it.
It smells like spring bouquets, the soft pedals of flowers that make up spring bouquets. I’m terrible at saying thank you when you reach that place that completely exceeds it. Instead I shook and smiled and simply said, “Never before.”
I have seven more days of work until a week off. I’m trying to shape up my writing into organized piles for when I go and hide in Connecticut. I’ll work on this a bit before having a catnap prior to Tony’s pre-dawn arrival.
Supposedly Flaming Saddles is open until 4am tonight, my goal is to make it there for at least one cocktail…
I’ve had a good run of book obsession blog family. For the past four days all free moments involve some type of click.
A friend of mine even went so far to make the comment, “Man. Since you copped that new laptop, you’re working on your book like woah.”
Over the past few days I got through around 20,000 words and concluded the session with, “Sheesh.”
I feel like the difference between writing this novel and the first one is that in the first one, I was more focussed on story elements. Cause and effect type of things. In this book, I’m more interested with what someone sitting on a bench is looking at, there’s a big shift into perceptions.
I dipped to the country for the weekend. While it still feels like f-ing winter outside, forest writing also does me good. I’m thankful to play New York City during the week and then hide out in the sticks for my Saturdays and Sundays. Alas, I shall return to town in a few hours.
I’ve been so glued to my work that even my mother had to ask, “Gretchen, what are you doing?”
“Writing a best-seller.”
“Oh good. Write a best-seller and get rich, so you can buy us an estate. With horses.”
The funny part about that is, no one in my family actually rides horses.
Maybe I’ll learn one day, at the estate. I’ll take just finishing a book for the moment, then onto the next project.
Namaste Blog Family
Winter is killing me. I hate when people complain about the weather, so pardon this paragraph. But for real. The weather man reckons that the temperature is ten degrees lower than usual for this time of year. The first day of spring is this week, and there’s still patches of snow around here and there.
Over the weekend I escaped to the country to celebrate one of my niece’s birthday. She turned the big three this year. Needless to say, she liked my present best! Continue reading
Namaste lovers of syllable land
My favorite words to read hurt. Note “to read”. I can never handle anything harsh being spoken, verbal attacks and what not. Humans spatting.
I value language too highly for that.
However, I love when I read something that makes me uncomfortable. When I can look at words on a page, artfully presented, in a way that makes my stomach spasm in a concerning way and my tongue push against the backs of my front teeth. Gut punch bites.
This is what my novel does, for me. I think that there are some pieces around FollowMeToNYC that exemplify my joy of playing with strident letters; love appreciation and departure that I wrote last summer come to mind. Continue reading