Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Checking In Rather Late

I'm working. I'm writing. I'm gathering and stitching and tearing and cutting and pasting. I'm breaking down and building up. I am here for the muse and the muse is here for me. Is she a genius or a daemon?  Am I Roman or Greek?

I'm putting together this big unwieldy project - my Labrador Project which has no name because it does not know what it is. Is it memoir? Kind of. Is it poetry? Yes, indeed or it is somewhat poetic - like the fox we saw coming home from Nova Scotia was a ballet dancer - a little Degas girl in torn black tights with a real fire in her heart. Like that.

I've gathered all the sojourner blog posts, all the fb fragments and poems and I've begun to make a narrative of it. I need something to take to Pipers Frith, the writing workshop I'm going to. I need to send out about 5 thousand words by the end of the month. I have them - I have thousands of words but they are in strings, in ribbons, wrapped around piano legs, floating out to sea, ice skating on the canal. They aren't here yet! They're coming. Honest, they are. They've sent envoys to tell me. They are literally on the move, they packed their little word suitcases - though some insist on old-fashioned rucksacks, and they are taking trains, planes and dog-sleds to get here. One bunch of words was vacationing in Western Newfoundland in the Bay of Islands and they don't want to come - they want to live there forever - but they are coming. Just a bit slowly. They are mostly a dedicated lot, even that rebel gang in Newfoundland.

As they come they tend to bring the motion of their journey with them. They don't, can't settle down nicely on the page. No, like Bella, they hare off here and there, sniffing out more words I think. They don't just want to settle nicely - they want gangs and gangs and gangs. And I'm patient - god knows, I'm very patient. Well...with words I am. You have to be. You cannot force them. They are wild and any hint that you are going to try and colonize them or tame them or whatever and they are gone like the landlord's smile.

Maybe I'm a bit manic. I'm going to have a bath now. Talk to you later, when I'm done my corralling for the day. Tomorrow. Sometime. Yup.  Here is the airport at Red Bay, Labrador. Some of them might be stuck there. The weather is far too nice to fly in.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

Yesterday I finished this draft of Bright Angel. It felt so absolutely good. There are just a few bigger things I want to think about over the next few days. Then I will go back and put them in, or take them out, or brighten them up. Other than that, I'm good to go. Next step? The fella will do a grammar, punctuation and fact check on it. He's not allowed to discuss the plot or anything literary like. I've learned my lesson over the years. He doesn't like fiction unless it is either completely up there in the stratosphere (he's the only person I know who has read Moby Dick twice. And Finnegan's Wake) or spy novels. So...he is just going to copy-edit.

Today is a glorious day, the gal and I have gone to second beach and now I'm back. Today I'm looking at which three finished poems to send out. I want to get them off tomorrow - so I need to choose three and also decide where to send them. I have a little list of Canadian literary mags and generally stick to that. I created a system - a nice big wall chart - that said where each one was and comments back and so forth. Gone! I think I've heard back from all of them and I have a record on line who I sent to as well. Will have to start another system. I think a little book would be nice - two pages per poem and then just tiny notes about where and what happened.

I'm also thinking about the next step for my Labrador project. hmm... it is still eluding me. A memoir-ish poem-ish thing? A straight memoir built on my poems as reminders of what I was up to? A poetry manuscript? Self-publish with photos? And so on. I'm not stressing too much as I will have 5 days, a mentor, and a small crowd of writers to bounce ideas off of in October.

Here's a photo or two of the beach last night...we took Bella out for stick throwing in the glory.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

And so to write

Today it is storming up something wild, the rain is raining, the wind is (well, not winding) blowing, and I'm to writing!

I had a good morning so far...wrote a letter to one son, made another healthy breakfast on my 10 Day Detox diet (two egg omelette with home-grown sprouts, fresh garlic and a dab of hot sauce) and I found my rug-hooking hook and pulled out some wool. I'm making a wee mat for someone special - lots of fun too design. Haven't hooked in over twenty years. Probably thirty...come to think of it.

And now to Bright Angel, which is galloping along. If I get done earlier than the time I want to write, I'll find those three poems I want to send out.

I like a nice calming rain, don't you?

This is from yesterday, when Bella and I went to third beach for a picnic...

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Fickle Mind

Today, it being Sept.2, labour day being over, and kids everywhere back to school, I got that old-time feeling. I thought I'd better get organized and so I got out lists and notebooks and calendars and tried to skillfully organize my days. I would do this at this time and only for so long and like that. ha.

I immediately was off kilter. I took too long thinking about it and the list making wasn't on my list and well, it just got silly. Here's what I know I want to accomplish most days - write some good chunks of time, write and mail a letter, at least one long walk with the pooch, chores, cooking, paper work and other assorted adult tasks, meditate, create (draw, paint, sew, knit, hook).


I forgot that I was going to let the wild be my boss. It went right out of my head. Luckily, I remembered when I was out wandering with Bella. We went to 3rd Beach. For photos on that

So...I still want to ride the enthusiasm of fresh page September, but I also don't need to make myself crazy.

I will be done this revision in about four days.

I will have three poems ready to send out Friday.

I will get chores done (some of them).

I will stop to watch the grey jays fighting in the tree outside this window!

Here's  Muskrat Falls, which will soon, drat those agents of darkness, be no more... Robin and I sat there and painted. What heaven!