Mid-January, the earth is covered with ice and a crunchy snow a few inches deep. The meditative qualities of walking are swallowed up by fear of slipping or the grinding of hard snow beneath boots. People complain. Complaining is a normal winter’s activity, so are ice and snow, and yet — I’ll reiterate for what seems like the hundredth time again — we’ve slipped out of the cog of normalcy.
What I do:
I finish painting the bathroom (one Sunshine wall, the others Vanilla Ice Cream).
I’m diligent at my work.
My daughter and I go out for coffee, struggle through the CSS profile on financial forms, talk and talk and circle around.
I rise early every morning and rewrite my novel, snip, stitch, elaborate, with my imagination and my hands. In the night, I wake and lay more wood on the fire, pieces of my life arising in words: loons and dahlias and betrayal and desire.
On a Jane Alison bender (Meander, Spiral, Explode: Design and Pattern in Narrative), I inter-library-loan Alison’s memoir of how her parents switched partners with another couple, The Sisters Antipodes. Alison writes, “Making things helps make you.”
Sunlight on Sunday, a stiff breeze that jangles the wind chimes.
9 thoughts on “Making Things…”
Well, after last week, at least we have a little white to look at and not just November grey…
Agreed. It’s been seeming like Eternal November…. at least a sub-circle of the Underworld.
Congratulations on the painting and the novel revising.
Such a pleasure to make the imaginative world real…..
I very much agree. 🙂
Break a leg with snipping and re-imagining the novel. It sounds exciting.
Well. Now, that’s some damn nice prose and poetry. Thanks, Brett.
I finished The Sister Antipodes yesterday — a very big fan. Nice to hear from you, as always! Coffee, soon?