Noise Reduction
quiet reflections on life in a loud worldArchive for September, 2009
A Glimpse Of The Future?
So, there there we were, the Hobbit and I, reading a story before lights out. It was a picture book, called Journey Around San Francisco (by Martha Day Zschock), filled with pictures of landmarks and historical places in San Francisco. When we got to a picture of Alcatraz, the Hobbit noticed a ferry in the background. (The Hobbit is pretty into ferries.)
“A ferry!” he said.
“That’s right,” said I. “Alcatraz is an island, so you need to take a boat there.” I paused, then added, “Maybe one day soon, we can go there. In fact, maybe you and I and newbaby can go there.”
He said nothing.
“Does that sound like a good idea? You and me and newbaby?”
“Yes,” he said. “And newbaby’s momma.”
“But I’m newbaby’s momma,” I said. “I’m your momma AND newbaby’s momma.”
“No,” said he. “You’re MY momma.”
Hmmmm.
Greetings From A Writing Retreat
Greetings from Marin County, USA. I’m here at a Zen Buddhist retreat center, with the local chapter of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. I’ve retreated from home and hearth and am sitting in a Japanese-style room looking out at lush greenery, trying to moderate my coffee intake and discern just what is here for me. Children’s writing is a new world for me; one I entered last fall with enthusiasm and hope not unlike that I brought to adult literary fiction nearly a decade ago. Last October, I wrote a story and sent it out. It was rejected. In April, I sent another story out and it, too, was rejected. Now I’m here, with a slim but very real file of rejections, a laptop, a sketch pad, music, greenery, comfortable clothes, fellow writers and only the faintest clue as to what I want to accomplish over the next couple of days. Enthusiasm and hope are playing hide and go seek and I’m leaning against a tree extending my count beyond fifty, beyond one hundred. Truth is, I don’t feel like seeking them, and in this I feel like a little girl playing with kids much bigger, faster and craftier than she is. Even if I manage to find them, they’ll just get away again. No?
Yet, isn’t that what they say makes one a writer? Persevering despite the rejections, the tedium, the wearing struggle to maintain a firm and authoritative grip on enthusiasm and hope? It’s certainly something I’ve heard often enough.
So, here I go.
It’s 8:30 And I Don’t Know What To Do
Ever finish a novel and feel sad? Last night I finished Youngblood Hawke, by Herman Wouk and tonight I feel like I’ve been stood up for a date. It’s a huge book and I was into it all the way. Every night when the Hobbit went to bed, I tip-toed down the hall to get the book and dove right in. The husband’s been on the road for two weeks now and this book has kept me company all that time. The entire weekend past I was torn between wanting to escape with it and dreading the final act – that last full stop and those blank filler pages at the back. Last night I got there, and tonight, well, I suppose the best thing I can say for myself is that I’m posting an entry on my blog for the first time since May.
I do have other excuses (for not posting, that is). Just days before I posted that last entry I’d found out I was pregnant, and just days after that the worst weeks of the pregnancy began. That’s right, woe was me. There began fourteen weeks of mental fog, constant nausea, exhaustion and blues that some days were as dark and deep (and not nearly as pretty) as a midnight sky.
But, I’m through all that now. I have more energy and more interest in life, less need to eat as often as I breathe and generally more pep in my step. I can play with Hobbit1 and enjoy the new movements of Hobbit2, or newbaby as we like to call it around here. I can read a novel without falling asleep. And I can post a little of this and that on my blog. Here’s to that.
