I’ve probably got several blog posts with this title, as it’s my constant issue. Not enough time, finding the time, making the time, wishing for more time. Yadda, yadda, yadda. And two months goes by without even a blog post. Mind you I’ve been busy: teaching two classes in the first 7-week block of summer; taking on a new administrative job in the A&H College; traveling to Torrey, Sun Valley, and northern California; etc., etc., etc.. But I’d like to write at least a little something every week because if I don’t the well will run dry.
The four essays I worked on last fall have been published or are forthcoming. And the Taos Summer Writers’ Conference published a blog about my work:
Success at the Sagebrush: Celebrating the Publication of TSWC Participant Becky Jo Gesteland
which is great and all; however, I need to keep generating material. Some ideas–submitted as part of my residency application packet to Hedgebrook:
- Knitting – about the spiritual benefits of knitting and my mother and my knitting experiences
- Breasts – about my aunt’s breast cancer, shopping for my daughter’s first bra, and my friend’s breast enhancement surgery
- Fear – about my experiences with domestic violence and risky sexual behavior
I already have some stuff for the first one and may be able to rough something out before the end of summer. The second I haven’t even begun. The third I keep shying away from. Anyway, there it is. My bi-monthly progress report.
Now to some actual writing…
Distracted by grading literary analysis papers, writing press releases, refinancing a home equity loan, packing and unpacking, reading last-month’s magazines, and watching re-runs of “30 Rock,” I’ve neglected to spend any time with myself. I mean I’ve been doing yoga twice a week–when I’m in town–and walking the dogs, but apart from a short journal entry wherein I recollected how it felt to be in Sun Valley again [three years previously I’d realized my marriage was over while vacationing there (see Unraveling: Six Months – forthcoming in August)] I haven’t written anything substantive. It’s that time thing. Carving out space to think long enough to string together a loose collection of sentences around a vaguely intriguing topic. And there’s the rub too. I lack a vaguely intriguing topic. Knitting, breasts, and fear? I guess they sound mildly interesting. And here I am back to writing about writing rather than actually writing. I need to work on that getting in the moment thing.
Perhaps another day. I need to finish All the Light We Cannot See and watch some more TV.