Hm. What should I write about? Let’s poke around the Internet and see what everyone else is writing about. There was an article on being a housewife that I found uninteresting, an article on parasites that I avoided. It turns out aspartame has NOT been proven to be carcinogenic. I’m not going to start drinking diet sodas any time soon though. What’s happening in the blog world?
Lesley Wheeler writes about immersing herself back in her daily life after coming home from France (I know, I know), where she wrote a bunch of poems (I know!) in addition to having a grand time with her family if the pictures are any indication. And she writes
Whether or not internally-motivated poets are more successfully than the ambitious ones . . . I feel sure they’re happier. I’m a lot happier on writing days than on non-writing days. And apparently I’m more cheerful after a good weekday session of paragraph-drafting than I am on a holiday weekend during which I’m offered a book contract.
I laughed reading the last line, but I also nodded in understanding. With DP off molding young minds in a neighboring state, I have a lot more free time. (Who knew being shacked up took up so much time?) What did I do yesterday with my free time? I did not binge watch [TV show redacted], work in my garden, read a book, sun myself in a park, call a friend, etc. Nope. I tap-tapped away at my new schlock novel.
This is a no-pressure project. It may get finished, it may not. It is primarily something new to think about and a break from The Fucker. But I can’t tell you how much fun it is to create this new little world. I have a motherly neighbor with a drinking problem, a tight-rope walker who knows a little bit of everything, a snowstorm, and a woman who does the wrong thing for the right reasons.
My little novel is a break from the shoulds. Yeah, I should have weeded the side bed and I maybe should have done a second load of laundry. There were bigger things I should have been doing, important things that keep my life running more smoothly. But I didn’t. Instead I wrote. And it was more fun than a barrel of monkeys. (I would imagine many things are more fun than a barrel of monkeys.)
What did you do this weekend?