Writer envy

I spend almost no time at all on my writing.  I read about writing incessantly, I read in my genre voraciously, and visit my favorite author’s websites obsessively.  All time that should be spent – wait for it – WRITING!!!  I learned this week that Nora Roberts’ rule for writing is “butt in chair” (or something close to that).  It’s a great rule and one I’d like to say I follow.  The only problem I have with it is that when my butt is in my chair, I’m looking at a computer screen.  My computer happens to be connected to the internet, which is a good thing because otherwise you wouldn’t be reading my blog!  It can also add to the distractions that keep me from writing, which are infinite on the ‘net without even starting on those in my home life.  So, what’s a budding, non-published author to do?  Make Nora’s motto my own, “butt in chair, browser in your blog (or word processing software)!”  Thousands of  ideas are running around in my brain, and as they come up I tend to ignore them because I let the editor in my brain censor me or the real life crises that tend to make up my day take over.  There has to be a way to transcend this, because two writers I admire started their careers because:  a.) one was up in the night with nothing left in the house to read and started to write something she would want to read, and b.) one was stuck in a blizzard with no way out of her house, and small children to entertain.

It would be easy to say I have more challenges than most because my now 11-yr-old son Daniel was diagnosed with a fatal, neuro-degenerative disorder when he was 2 & 1/2 years old.  That pretty much blew my life to hell for the next decade.   He’s had more hospitalizations than I can count, and challenged me as a mother in ways I would never have thought I could survive.  As exhausting as it gets, all he has to do is smile and every effort I make seems pitifully small in comparison to what he lives with on a daily basis.

Yes, I envy published authors and escape into their books as often as I possibly can.  It’s easier to lose myself in their writing than it is in my own – so far.  As Daniel has shown me over and over again, each day is a new opportunity and you never know what life will offer you unless you choose to live it.

Roller Derby Queen?

Most of my life I’ve considered it a virtue that I’m willing to look like a fool.  My children found this to be one of my most endearing qualities when they were young, but as they’ve enter adolescence, well…not so much.  A good example was trying out my LandRollers today.  As a veteran of bilateral knee surgery, I have to wear knee braces.  The current pair I’m sporting are gray, as are my LandRollers.  I happened to be in brown shorts and an orange and brown tie-dye shirt, not exactly a match made in heaven between top and bottom.  Taking the time to change clothes seemed silly though, so off I went, tearing down the driveway, a mismatched melange of colors teetering toward disaster.  I heard my son mutter, “I am not related to you in ANY way!”  as he heard my rendition of Jim Croce’s “Roller Derby Queen” start while my husband snapped candid shots with our camera.

My husband is much more willing than my kids to smile in amusement at my antics these days, probably because they have worked in his favor more often than not (yes, I willingly wear lingerie that would make an underwear model blush).*   Another reason may be that  it suggests a depth of character, laughable as that may seem, that he respects.  My husband is paraplegic, has been since the age of 12, and while in my eyes he literally embodies the physique of an Adonis, he weathered several rejections on internet dating sites (before we were “matched”) simply because he was honest enough to say he used a wheelchair.  I could never make sense of that when he told me about it after several dates.  Here he was, a strong, handsome, virile, man who had been a number one seed on the USTA wheelchair tennis circuit with a coporate sponsor; financially independent with a six-figure salary and enough savings to retire whenever he felt like it; an intellect that both dazzled and seduced simultaneously…..how on earth could something as minor as his use of a wheelchair be a dealbreaker? (his sexy red sports car only added to his “hotness”)  Whether you call it luck or destiny, there was incredible chemistry, and he sealed the deal with our first kiss.

I don’t know if there is any relationship between my willingness to play the fool and the profound love I found on the internet.  It’s an attribute that I’m stuck with and that I hope endears me to my family.  They might have preferred Sophia Loren (especially my husband) but they’ll just have to accept someone closer to Lucille Ball.

* [This attribute must run in my family, because one of my sisters and I ended up laughing to the point of tears as she described squeezing her middle-aged thighs into a pair of chaps her husband had gotten her in a size based more on wishful thinking than reality.]

Blogging on WordPress

My heart is racing as I type these first words.  That’s how naive and new I am to the blogosphere.  This feels like a momentous occasion.  It’s completely different than my first tiptoe onto the internet scene.  Sure, I’m on Facebook and Twitter, although I don’t use either as proficiently as I should.  In my first try at blogging I had hoped to help others, and ended up with one follower.  This blog is, in a sense, completely for me and it feels more like a profound exploration of something mysterious and unknowable.  A dive into deep water with the hope that I’ll grow gills so I can breathe in every atom of it.  “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” (Alexander Pope)  Ah, I have ever been (and probably always will be), a fool when it comes to creative expression.

So swiftly, a mere moment of bliss, and life calls me back again.  My pre-teen son needs a ride.  Thank you WordPress, for a measure of space in cyberspace.

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