Doing What I Can

Being calm when you're becalmed is a peaceful thing, but eventually, the urge to move sets in. You set your oars into the water, and you begin to row. I don't have a lot to talk about this week, except that I have submitted a couple of short stories for publication, and I have a prose poem just about ready to go. (One really wonderful metaphor that I'm reluctant to cut makes the line go "thunk". Gotta find some way around that.)

It doesn't help that we are in the middle of a major heat wave. Long walks are hellish rather than inspirational when the weather is like this. But this, too, shall pass.

I'm also going through my previous posts, comments, notes and things that didn't make it into the blog, and putting it all together for the book I hope to make of this. When I was reading up on sabbatical years and career strategies last year, I kept seeing stories of people who quit their jobs, leaped into the void, and came out much better than before. But nobody was really talking about what happened in between. Except for Elizabeth Gilbert, who was fairly affluent and had a book advance and an international support network to take her through her "Eat, Pray, Love" year. What's it like for someone who can only be independently wealthy for a year?

Well, this is what it's like. I still don't know how things will turn out, but sending my little projects out into the world is something that I can do. Collecting my notes so that I can turn them into something bigger is something I can do. Checking in with you, gentle readers, even when I have nothing momentous to say, is something I can do. So I'm doing it.

Here's a link to "Mistral Wind", which my sister mentioned in a comment to my previous post. Just a reminder that when the wind does come, it sets the direction.