Harummph
There are times when I am very upset with Chinua, and Just Plain Mad, but then I look deeper and by golly, it’s not about Chinua. It’s about my book.
I started writing a book four years ago. At the time I was twenty-four and thinking, “I’d better get on it! Anne Tyler’s first book was published when she was twenty-four.”
Now I hold my sides while I laugh, thinking of little twenty-four year old me a) comparing myself to Anne Tyler in any size shape form or age, b) imagining myself finishing anything quickly, ever c) imagining that the book I was writing then was anything but rubbish.
Because, of course, that book is long gone, and another has taken its place. This one I really believe in. This one is my precious.
Whoops, did I just say that out loud?
But the equation goes like this: x=Good(n) where x= working on my book and n= the number of days in a row that I do so. Also x=Bad(n) It works in a backwards direction.
So sometimes, Chinua, when I return from driving on the scooter to the ATM which is half an hour away and it’s time to run out for drum and dance lessons and I have to get the baby up and walk down the beach with him and one of the kids to meet you there, but first I have to make sandwiches for us to eat for dinner and the kitchen’s a bit of a mess and it looks like I will miss dance class again, but you have to go because you are the drummer and suddenly nothing seems fair and I let you know so, loudly, while you drive off…
well. It may be more about the book than about you. Or the kitchen. Or the cut up pieces of papers on the floor. Because sometimes chores are simply a representation of more time spent away from my writing.
And Rae, you may say, Reader, you smart person, you. People who will move to India, and who will live in communities, and who will keep having babies and who will have a meditation center at their house and who will have people over every single day, may not always find the time to write.
You are so, so right. But four years later, still trying, I find that I still want it all.
15 comments
My dear bloggy friend…to paraphrase the immortal words of comedian Steven Wright… “You can’t have it all. Where would you put it?”
Keep on plugging. I love reading about people who move to India, live in communities, keep having babies, have a meditation center at their house and have people over every single day! 
Wow, I love how your post just nails my feelings about my writing right now EXACTLY.
I know you don’t know me and this may seem strange, but I find myself wanting to say this so often after reading your blog. I just love you. Not in a creepy internet stalker-ish way, just another mom with 4 kids who would like to write or create or laugh more, and you often seem to read my mind and then put it down for me to read. Clearly. So, I love you. =)
one accomplishment is you have been blogging so faithfully and as you can tell, we all love it! We miss hearing how your busy, messy, beautiful life is when you are gone.
as a fellow (though not as good writer) who has started and not completed 5 fairly long stories (4 of which got to over 200 pages before I quit on them) I can TOTALLY relate… You will publish. I can feel it.
Well, you’ll just have to prove that there is a life of your own while you’re raising 4 wee ones, and running a meditation center, etc., etc., by writing that book, although you may drop while you do it! No, for sure, you are a miracle worker, and accomplish so much, that I am confident you will do it!
I love you too!
And you know, because you are not letting the dream die, you will have it all . . .
Take your time . . . the book will come.
Right now, you are doing AMAZING things. This other amazing thing will be patient.
With your full life, that you still have the mental energy and motivation to write at all is, in my book, incredible! Hang in there!
just to encourage you…I’m so sorry to be the rain in this stream of thought, but just use an umbrella – and not to be negative, and not to say to let go of writing, because that is your passion and please don’t give it up…but be patient. It is so much better to let go and be the mess on the floor and the baby spit up and let things go a little especially your expectations and have patience with the 150,000 things you want to be and do all at the same time and surrender to the moment of making sandwiches. I have wanted to paint, write, do pottery and surf, none of which I’m doing right now. But I have peace knowing that to everything there is a season. Of course write, write, write! But as your mom probably tells you all the time, eventually the last one is out of diapers and you suddenly find yourself missing the smell of baby throw up! Then you forget that smell (Except maybe YOU don’t because you’ve blogged about it! Anyway, eternal value can be found in such small things…
I think perhaps you can have all you want and more. Some people do anyway. I think. Or perhaps they just grow to want less. Hmmmm. Love you. Can I say that in a comment? Or does that make me the strange lady in California. Wait… I am the strange lady in California.
Well then…..am I the strange lady in Australia?
(you are our precious) Oops! I said that in-print
I will be in line to be the first to buy it when you are published.
Our sweet men always take the brunt of our frustrations……I guess subconsciously it is safe. They love us and will understand when the making up part comes.
I wish I could give you the gift of more time. Or maybe persuade your husband to guarantee you an hour a day of uninterrupted writing time.
Rae—Your blog has been a staple in my life almost every day for over a year. I started my own because you are SO inspirational! I’ve tagged you in my blog and hope that my writing may someday be anywhere close to your elegant words. Thanks!!
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