Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Swimming to the Surface

Hello dear readers, or those of you at any rate who haven't wandered off, wondering whatever became of the woman? It has been such an intense few months and it ain't over yet! Today we take our poor dear old fella to the vet's and send him off to his next life. We're back in Prospect Bay in our old house (the one where I first lived with my guy and his kids. It has been nothing but snowy and cold since we moved in near the end of January. The inside upstairs (main floor) is pretty good but the downstairs (where my office is) is pretty darn chaotic. So that, as they say, is the context - the usual victories and defeats, comings and goings of modern life.

Within that contextual detail let me set my writing. I am writing many poems - some of the best ones I think I've ever done. Sue Goyette's poetry class at the university continues to be inspiring and I am smitten beyond measure with every one of my fellow students. They are a grand bunch and I am sad we only have seven more classes. As to Bright Angel - I am feeling not too bad about that! I have taken my first chapters to my writing group and the whole shebang to my editor and am on a good if arduous path.

Let me explain. I wrote the mad hot first draft in 60 days. I wrote it in first person - four different characters but one - Pinky - is the heart of the book. It was pointed out to me that the energy was with her and it was confusing to have her sister's, mother's and step-aunt's voice - they weren't distinct enough one from another and just repeated the same info. I fought this by deciding to keep Pinky in first but change the other first person chapters to third. Got about half-way through the novel doing this. At my last writing group I was urged to go Pinky all the way. I knew as soon as someone said it that they were right and that I was just having a lazy fit at the thought of all that work. Turns out it isn't that much work because I KNOW her voice - I've got it. And it isn't hard to get what needs to be got into the story - it just isn't. So I'm exactly half-way through. If I keep to my schedule of a chapter and a half revision a day I will be finished THIS draft by the end of the month. And I'm loving it.

Mid March me, the man and the step-dot are going to Cuba. My first finished novel has a chunk set there and so it will be interesting. I would like to revise that first book 'Feckless' - we'll see.

So, I'm swimming to the surface with strong sure strokes.

Wish my dear dog well today as he journeys out of this world.

6 comments:

Faith Pray said...

Hugs, Jan. May he journey in peace and optimism, knowing he is solidly loved. I am so enjoying your poems. Poetry a perfect forced editor for writing. Spare and deep. That's good help for our other works, right? Thanks for keeping us updated. Peace and blissful words. Incredible Cuba trip to you!

Margot Kinberg said...

Jan - I am so sorry to hear about your trip to the Rainbow Bridge today. I've been there. He had a wonderful life with you and I hope that his passing leaves you with peace. As to your trip to Cuba I think that's wonderful news! I hope you'll love it. It's also good to hear your writing is moving along. Wishing you strength for that too.

ShannonAnn said...

It is so hard to lose an old friend, sending healing hugs your way.
I'm glad to hear that your writing is going well!
~ShannonAnn

Jan Morrison said...

Thanks dear pals. It was harder than I imagined it would be. Yesterday was like being eviscerated but today was better - probably as I was out of the house all day and evening. Coming back was so hard but I know it will get better every day. The swiftness of the actual death was mindblowing I miss the dear dear guy.

Hart Johnson said...

Oh, Jan, I somehow missed the detail over on Facebook about Hoagie--I am SO SORRY for your loss. He was such a great dog. I'm sending a huge hug. Also a command--if you need a reader for anything you are working on, shout.

Sarah Ahiers said...

Hugs about Hoagie. You guys have been in my thoughts a lot these last few days. I know there are no words to ease his loss, but I think this poem is beautiful:

I am standing on the seashore-

A ship spreads her white sails in the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean-

She is an object of beauty and I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky meet to mingle with each other-

Then someone at my side says, "There! She's Gone!"

Gone where? Gone from my sight that's all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my sight, and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of her destination-

Her diminished size is in me-
not her-

And just at that moment when someone at my side says, "There! She's Gone!" there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices take up the glad shout, "There she comes!"

And that is dying.