The rain falls hard, shaken from the heavy air, in spite of the sun. Rivulets run down my arms, the thin cotton of my t-shirt immediately soaked. Even though it has rained all summer I love storms like these. Flat-out rain. The sky impossibly blue overhead, clouds ripped apart like pillows after a bedroom romp.
I’m listening to Penguin Café this afternoon. Trying to mow through the heap of things that has accumulated this week. Filling out forms for kindergarten (Bean starts in a multi-age classroom in a couple of weeks), running to the post office for stamps and to mail packages, copy-editing, writing. Always that.
Of course the very day, yes, the EXACT SAME DAY, I posted about my enormous writing goals for this month, an unbelievably awesome freelance copy editing/writing job fell into my lap. I am beyond grateful. And excited. And happy and such things. But now of course there is really no way I’ll meet my 80K goal by the end of the month. Things are competing for my time. Big time.
I’m thinking 40K will be more reasonable. But I’m also discovering things about the writing process that I didn’t know before—straight up novel writing is so different than short story writing or memoir writing or anything else I have ever done. I’m learning how I can be effective with small chunks of time: to map out future sections—to think in terms of events and scenes. To get notes down on paper no matter what.
Speaking of organizing, on Tuesday I tried out putting a couple of my favorite images I’ve ripped out of magazines together, inspired by this blog.
It was fun. And I had the idea of clipping each successive page one on top of the other on the cork board by my desk—that way I’ll gradually accumulate a whole stack of images that speak to me, and one day, maybe, I’ll get back around to painting and drawing again, and I’ll have them all in one place, rather than in piles on shelves and in boxes.
Now, some lovely things for Wednesday:
A pretty little card.
These summertime pics, and these foodie pics.
Also, this movie. Meryl Streep is glorious, as always. And it’s a story that makes you want to grab hold of the things you love and want, and to pursue them tenaciously and with conviction. Julia Child was told repeatedly that she was a terrible cook and would never have any kind of successful career. It reminded me to not get to bent out of shape about rejections.
And finally, though this has no connection whatsoever to anything else in this post, what is your favorite salad dressing recipe? Please share.