AshleyRose,
So this is how I blog. I'm earnest. I find myself composing blog posts all day long in my head. I even write one or two.
And then two months go by.
Suddenly, I remember the blog. Oh no! It's been two months and I didn't post anything! I rush to the blog and write an apology entry. "I can't believe it's been two months! I am going to try to be better about posting! Blah, blah, blah."
So I write one or two entries. And then I promptly forget about the blog for another two months.
(See the Knit Nook blog for examples of this behavior.)
I know. It's not like I haven't been busy. We graduated. I had a baby. The holidays. Whatever, it's no excuse since being busy also means that there's a ton to blog about. I totally meant to post about graduating. I even took pictures of our theses (which were essentially pictures of white boxes filled with paper--what a riveting blog post that would have been!) and I had this whole eloquent thing where I was going to talk about our time at Spalding and how it all can fit into a boring white box, but it was so much more than that, etc. It didn't happen.
But then I had a baby. And I was going to post about that. How life changing the experience was and how I'm a different person but I'm still the same person and my hopes and fears and how giving birth and finishing a novel really do parallel one another...blah blah blah. Yeah, that didn't happen either.
And here I am. The kid is 6 weeks old. It's been two months since we graduated. I got a Kindle for a graduation present and I've been reading like crazy. We got a Wii for Christmas and I've been streaming Netflix nonstop. Oh, and I've been figuring out this whole mother thing. And then suddenly, I remembered the blog. It was the same old guilt, but something was different. I didn't feel like I should be writing a blog post. I felt like I had to.
Because I haven't been writing very much. I'm trying desperately to write a very detailed outline of my next book so that I'll have a plan. But outlining isn't writing. And anytime I try to write for real, this is what happens.
Sure, just as quickly, she puts herself to sleep. But I find that I'm not nearly as focused as I once was. (REALLY? YOU THINK?!) Which is why I think the outline is such a great exercise for me. And hopefully, it will solve the 100 page problem. You know the one, where you write furiously and then all of a sudden you're somewhere in the middle of the novel and you have absolutely no idea what is going to happen next. Oh wait. That doesn't happen to you because you outline. I rest my case.
But I've just been feeling a little out of sorts. January always does it to me because the sidewalks are too icy for walking or running. I also always feel this way when I'm in between books. I'm also dangerously under employed right now and will soon to be unemployed all together in a few months and for whatever reason I can't seem to get my ass in gear and send my CV out. And then the baby won't stop crying when all I want to do is check my email or take a shower, let alone write an amazing novel that will actually sell this time. I was so afraid that when I had a baby, I wouldn't be able to write. But it's so much more than that.
But today: the baby fell asleep on her own.
And I remembered the blog. And I thought, "Today is the day. I'm going to write something!"
By the way, this is a rug that my grandparents got in South America in the 1970s and they had it framed. It hung on the guest room wall of their house my entire childhood. And their guest room was very grandparenty--floral wall paper, doilies, my grandmother's doll collection--so this neon rooster stuck out like...well, a neon rooster. But I LOVED IT. Always. So a few years ago when my grandparents were downsizing and giving all their shit away, I made the biggest stink about how I wanted that rooster and it was mine and I had claimed it when I was ten...until finally my brother said, "Jesus, Kristin. Nobody is fighting you for that thing. It's yours, believe me!" (It was a rerun of my great-grandmother's mink stole, the one with the five heads with the glass bead eyes and the little wire hands.)
So I took the rooster home and in spite of tremendous misgivings, my husband put the thing in our bedroom. I just love it. It's like falling asleep in my grandparents guest room every night. Except without the creepy dolls. And the doilies. And I'm in bed with my husband and can have sex without worrying that my grandmother will hear us.
Someday, when I have an office, this rooster is going on the wall. In the mean time, it can stimulate the brain of my growing daughter. Because if anything can get the synapses firing, it's a big neon rooster! (And you can quote me on that one!)
Thanks for reading the most random post ever.
It's good to be back.
Love,
Kristin
So this is how I blog. I'm earnest. I find myself composing blog posts all day long in my head. I even write one or two.
And then two months go by.
Suddenly, I remember the blog. Oh no! It's been two months and I didn't post anything! I rush to the blog and write an apology entry. "I can't believe it's been two months! I am going to try to be better about posting! Blah, blah, blah."
So I write one or two entries. And then I promptly forget about the blog for another two months.
(See the Knit Nook blog for examples of this behavior.)
I know. It's not like I haven't been busy. We graduated. I had a baby. The holidays. Whatever, it's no excuse since being busy also means that there's a ton to blog about. I totally meant to post about graduating. I even took pictures of our theses (which were essentially pictures of white boxes filled with paper--what a riveting blog post that would have been!) and I had this whole eloquent thing where I was going to talk about our time at Spalding and how it all can fit into a boring white box, but it was so much more than that, etc. It didn't happen.
But then I had a baby. And I was going to post about that. How life changing the experience was and how I'm a different person but I'm still the same person and my hopes and fears and how giving birth and finishing a novel really do parallel one another...blah blah blah. Yeah, that didn't happen either.
And here I am. The kid is 6 weeks old. It's been two months since we graduated. I got a Kindle for a graduation present and I've been reading like crazy. We got a Wii for Christmas and I've been streaming Netflix nonstop. Oh, and I've been figuring out this whole mother thing. And then suddenly, I remembered the blog. It was the same old guilt, but something was different. I didn't feel like I should be writing a blog post. I felt like I had to.
Because I haven't been writing very much. I'm trying desperately to write a very detailed outline of my next book so that I'll have a plan. But outlining isn't writing. And anytime I try to write for real, this is what happens.
Sure, just as quickly, she puts herself to sleep. But I find that I'm not nearly as focused as I once was. (REALLY? YOU THINK?!) Which is why I think the outline is such a great exercise for me. And hopefully, it will solve the 100 page problem. You know the one, where you write furiously and then all of a sudden you're somewhere in the middle of the novel and you have absolutely no idea what is going to happen next. Oh wait. That doesn't happen to you because you outline. I rest my case.
But I've just been feeling a little out of sorts. January always does it to me because the sidewalks are too icy for walking or running. I also always feel this way when I'm in between books. I'm also dangerously under employed right now and will soon to be unemployed all together in a few months and for whatever reason I can't seem to get my ass in gear and send my CV out. And then the baby won't stop crying when all I want to do is check my email or take a shower, let alone write an amazing novel that will actually sell this time. I was so afraid that when I had a baby, I wouldn't be able to write. But it's so much more than that.
But today: the baby fell asleep on her own.
And I remembered the blog. And I thought, "Today is the day. I'm going to write something!"
By the way, this is a rug that my grandparents got in South America in the 1970s and they had it framed. It hung on the guest room wall of their house my entire childhood. And their guest room was very grandparenty--floral wall paper, doilies, my grandmother's doll collection--so this neon rooster stuck out like...well, a neon rooster. But I LOVED IT. Always. So a few years ago when my grandparents were downsizing and giving all their shit away, I made the biggest stink about how I wanted that rooster and it was mine and I had claimed it when I was ten...until finally my brother said, "Jesus, Kristin. Nobody is fighting you for that thing. It's yours, believe me!" (It was a rerun of my great-grandmother's mink stole, the one with the five heads with the glass bead eyes and the little wire hands.)
So I took the rooster home and in spite of tremendous misgivings, my husband put the thing in our bedroom. I just love it. It's like falling asleep in my grandparents guest room every night. Except without the creepy dolls. And the doilies. And I'm in bed with my husband and can have sex without worrying that my grandmother will hear us.
Someday, when I have an office, this rooster is going on the wall. In the mean time, it can stimulate the brain of my growing daughter. Because if anything can get the synapses firing, it's a big neon rooster! (And you can quote me on that one!)
Thanks for reading the most random post ever.
It's good to be back.
Love,
Kristin
