Ninety-two days of solitude (or at least inactivity)
I just took a three month break from blogging, unannounced. And I feeeeel fiiiiiiine. (You may imagine either Michael Stipe or John Lennon singing that, depending on your generation and tastes.)
Once or twice, I started or even finished a blog entry, looked at it, and said to myself: “Self, are you just writing that so you have something in your blog?”
And I answered: “Yes, self, I’m just filling that box out of a sense of obligation.” Except for a few weeks ago, when I was monumentally pissed at FedEx Office, but that’s another story.
Now, obligation isn’t a bad thing. Obligation helps form the metaphorical connective tissue of society, keeping our metaphorical livers from fleeing our metaphorical abdomens when things get not-so-metaphorically rough. Obligation keeps us from standing up blind dates. Obligation makes us flush the toilet. Obligation encourages us to use turn signals.
BTW, if you don’t do any of these things, I strongly suggest you look into a cabin in northern Saskatchewan.
Anyway, obligation does a thousand dirty little jobs that we all depend on to one degree or another, but obligation alone isn’t a good enough reason to write…unless it’s contractual obligation, in which case there are lawyers involved, which means you have fear of living in a box under the Vandeventer Overpass in the mix.
And the fact is, I was writing, quite a bit, but nothing that belonged in a blog. Nothing beyond the occasional “hey, I’m still writing” post that always sounds to me as if someone is trying to convince themselves they are in fact doing so. Well, it sounds like that to me when *I* write it, anyway.
So here are the highlights of the last three months, in more or less chronological order:
- We had a lovely, brief trip over the Fourth of July weekend to visit friends in southwest Wisconsin, during which my son and I played much Magic: The Gathering with a kid who’s better than either of us.
- Ann Leckie, who must surely have a curio cabinet groaning under the weight of all those awards, came to speak–and critique!–at WUTA. Listening to her was fun, but getting to watch her edit on the fly was an unexpected pleasure. Even if I did have to read first.
- My lovely and patient wife Laura decided to sell her property in Franklin County to a distant cousin who was looking for a plot of land to build a house on. He and his new wife are going to have one hell of a view.
- I read the first three pages of Finnegan’s Wake while buzzed. I don’t think there’s enough whiskey in the world.
- I wrote a poem about just how beige the church I grew up in was.
- I finished the novel version of Robo4ce, which is now with its beta readers in my son’s gifted class.
- The screenplay for Robo4ce took another first place, at the ever-so-slightly redundant-sounding Contest of Contest Winners. This one involves an award ceremony at a film festival in California in two weeks…and a schedule conflict with Archon, which my son is really, really looking forward to. I have some phone calls to make today.
And I will be finishing the screenplay/outline for Not Even Past, the next project, this weekend.
It probably won’t be another three months.