I've been writing. A lot. Well, not as much as I should [she says with deprecation], but enough to make me think I might actually finish this memoir by October. It's been quite a journey, and I've learned a lot. I've changed ... in a narrative arc kind of way ... so I thought I'd share my story with the world, or at least with a handful of beautiful people who like to read my words. Thanks for being one of those people!
I'm also weaning off some meds and trying to switch to some tinctures and stuff, and it's making funny things happen to my focus. (Ha ha, what focus?)
Things that are currently distracting me from work are: the state of my house.
The house is a perpetual character in my life, and its troubles informed both my childhood and my 40s.
Today, I just want space.
Quiet space.
A space that I can cozy up to and write without seeing dustbunnies or boxes or piles of paperwork or backlogs of items I should be doing instead of writing.
At this moment I'm typing outside, in an adirondack chair that needs a good pressure wash and sealing wax ("and other fancy stuff" - who gets this reference??!). It's okay for a cool summer day, but this winter will be fierce. Will I be editing the memoir from my bed?
Or will I have something like this:
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