Beware of digging into things you should not. It never turns out well; the revelation will be painful, though predictable, and scar the guts deeply.
Answer: find the path forward—boldly, with full feathers and song.
Finding
Category: possibility
2020
The rain falls outside on this last dim, soggy day of the year. I don’t want to make a list of the decade or anything else.
I’ll keep moving forward.
On Writing, 7 July 19
Every now and then, I reflect on why I write, what I love about writing, and what is true for me now.
Here’s what I’m thinking today . . .
I crave order, and I find order by working on a project. Sometimes writing doesn’t feel like the process has any order.
My happily ever after endings are never perfect but always satisfying.
New ideas glimmer like promises on the water’s surface, but upon closer inspection, most of them lack depth.
Depth can be created.
Layers infuse while revising. I liken this experience to a complex and beautiful garden or a really great meal. All the senses work together and the journey finds a trail and satisfying destination.
Shifting
This is the time of year I love most (even if my allergies disagree).
The birdsong and frog song, the succession of blooming plants, the longer days, and the shifts between sunshine and rain.
I’m finishing up a project that I’ll be sad to leave. I love the characters, the setting, the story. I’m sure I’ll be doing future revisions and edits, shifting and changing, but for now, I’m going to move onto the next big thing.
These moments of shifting can feel good. “Hey, I finished a book!”
Yet, I can also feel unsure.
The possibility awaits: wonderful and scary; exciting and daunting; a dash forward and a long pause. All those contrasts hit me, freeze me.
I’m back to the act of creating again. The pen to the notebook–
shifting.
All the Beauty
This is the time of year when all the magic happens . . .
The cherry tree blooms,
The tulips open,
and everything is glorious.
Spring and Everything
My music tonight is the song of Pacific tree frogs in the wetlands near my house. My office window faces the stage.
My sons want to know why frogs advertising their manliness brings me joy. True enough. Silly, really.
“I’m here!”
“I’m here too!”
“Pick me!”
“No, me!”
Spring also means beautiful clouds, daffodils, blossoming trees . . .
Possibility.
The frogs persistently sing of possibility.
Worthy music, indeed!
A crocus from earlier this month.
Notice all the muddy ground.
Dare Mighty Things
On a visit to JPL last year, I saw this sign in a building:
I’m not a scientist, not even close. I am in awe of all things inventive and new about science. I love the realm of possibility.
Dare Mighty Things doesn’t even make sense exactly. I mean, how do you dare a thing? Yet, that’s one of the reasons why I like the sign so much.
My sons and other members of my family have science brains. They can wrap their heads around abstract possibility, force, nature, numbers. I stand back and nod in awe.
Innovation leads to success,
Yet, failure is also a huge part of innovation.
Daring means things go wrong too. Mighty doesn’t always happen.
I cannot create an alternative fueled spaceship or navigate rovers on planets, but I can write.
The past few years I’ve had my own version of spectacular rockets blowing up.
Years of work on novels end in fiery ruin.
I stare at the pieces and start over,
Do it again
And again
And again.
Sometimes, it gets hard,
Painfully, wretchedly hard.
But what other choice do I have?
I have to create.
I have to write.
I cannot stop.
When I face that blank screen, the possibilities swarm through my brain.
DARE MIGHTY THINGS
My own version of space travel starts when my fingers hit the keyboard.
To possibility and beyond!
Changes
I just set up a new theme for my website.
I love new beginnings.
More to come.
Stay tuned . . .
MLK Day
Remember those who are willing to speak
and love,
those who inspire hope in others
and weave the threads of understanding
to connect our world.
Those are the people who inspire me.
On the Verge
I know I often say how busy I am.
I am super busy right now. To give you an idea, a full schedule with my day job is when I teach four classes. Often I teach five.
Well, this fall I’m teaching six classes for four different universities.
The life of an adjunct . . . But, that’s another topic (too ugly for today).
Yes, I am busy.
Oddly enough, despite my lack of time, I’m jolting with creative energy.
While I’m finishing up a YA novel, I had an idea on how I can completely change the voice of a middle grade story I wrote long ago. I thought of a picture book story, and another ten minute play. I worked on some monologues for an upcoming show, drafted two articles, and and plotted out three new YA novels (I will need to choose one to start with).
I feel like I’m standing outside of myself looking in and wondering what happened. Where did all this creative energy come from? Why now when I don’t have time? Part of this is wonderful. Who wouldn’t want all of these cool writing vibes to play with? Yet, I’m frustrated as well. I would like to drop all six of my classes and run down the paths of all of these stories.
From where I stand, the scenery ahead in stunning.
Oh, I’m so sorry if you’re seeing advertisements on my blog. WordPress started adding them (without alerting me), and now I will have to pay extra to have them removed.
I’m not very happy with WordPress right now.
Michèle Griskey 