I forgot, forgot the Fifth of November. Ah well, no fireworks.
I’m eating more and feeling sluggish. I’m having trouble staying focused. I guess it’s the change of season. I’ve taken up my exercise plan with extra vigour, because I know December in Canada will involve lots of eating. But I’ve resolved to stick with my vegetarianism through Christmas. I can’t defend any reason why I wouldn’t. So Mom, Dad, I’m going to make a pie instead of having turkey. At least you believe I can cook now (I barely believe it myself).
I haven’t much to write, because not much is going on. Work is great and chock-full of projects, as is the rest of life, but it’s all happening in my head, not out where it shows up as news to report.
My biggest frustration is that I’ve drifted away from the book. I got the last chapter out, which was a big one to write. I was excited about it and wanted to keep going, but then I got busy with other projects, and now I find myself facing… the distance.
As I’ve often said, there’s no such thing as Writer’s Block. That’s simply a by-product of losing your place in the creative process, thinking about product or effect when you should be focused on craft and imagination.
And yet, every time I step away from the work, that distance gets in there, and manifests as resistance to the work. I feel fear and uncertainty, and while I’ve been through this process enough times to recognise this for what it is (and to know that it never goes away), the experience of it is no less real.
The trick, of course, is just to take that first faith-filled step from the boat onto the waves. I know I’ll do it, but I haven’t yet. Of course, that thought is just another facet of the resistance.
