The Dream of the Violin

So what's with the lack of posts?  Am I writing?  Am I avoiding writing?  What is going on here?

Well, truth is, I've been writing off and on.  I've been raising two little girls and working, and cooking, and paying bills, and cleaning when I have the time, and thinking ever so much about my book and when I will have time to finish it.

The good news is that I've been able to write a good portion more of my book this last month when I took time off work, dropped the children at Grammy and Grandpapa's house, and spent a week in Northern Michigan writing and relaxing and reading.

When I first went up North, I had 37 MS Word document pages completed of my novel.  After 5 days up North, in which one day I spent out on the water fishing with my husband and father-in-law, I had 57 pages completed.  

The sad part is that since I've been back, I've gotten nothing done, other than within my head.  It sucks, but that's life with two children under three and a job that you come home to only to find that it's all about to change.

One thing I still haven't learned is how to write when I'm truly stressed.  I stress easily, but these last four weeks since the trip have been truly stressful.  It is only now that I find that I can finally shake off most of this stress and open my mind to creativity and originality.

I spent this last week reading here and there when I can, looking up ideas for Christmas programs for my church, and making Halloween decorations and putting them all together.  I've even been sitting down to the piano and plunked out some tunes and dreamed of getting out my violin, dusting it off and playing.  That's how I know:

I'm ready to sit down and write again.

When I want nothing more than to pull all my creativity out of myself, I am ready to write.  At least, that's when the best of my writing comes out.

So what am I going to do this week while I await news on the job front?  I'm going to write.  I'm going to add as many pages as I can to my manuscript before I am called back to the office.  I have to.  I don't know how much time I'll be given, and even more, if I don't hear back from the office soon, I will just have to start looking elsewhere, which becomes it's own stressful animal; one I may have to learn to tame and write as I go.

Anyhow, so that is what the world is like for me at the moment. 

If I want to do this, for real (which I've been realizing more and more for myself is what I indeed want desperately), I must do it now.  And leave no breath wasted, no moment unrealized and un-utilized.  Not to go fast, but to slow down and let the words come.  Let them flow through my body and into my fingertips, spilling out onto the keyboard so that a mass of story in its raw and naked form appears before me on the screen.

I cannot wait to see what these last three years have gestated.  My final goal of the year is to finish it by the year's end.

To see it complete, before I tear it apart and re-sew it together.