books in progress, a writer in un-progress

Friday, April 15, 2011

It's only paper, I told myself.  Or (another tactic), One thing at a time.  

But today it seemed too much—three manuscripts in their piles—on the floor, on the chair, on the glass pane.  Three manuscripts, waiting.  The You Are My Only galleys, to be read one final, change-it-now-or-never time. The one hundred pages of memoir proposal.  The adult novel I've been giving myself deliberate distance from, now returned to me after a marvelously close reading.  Three utterly separate worlds in one small space requiring an enhanced version of me.  Three different voices.  Three different things I'd come to say.  Words the only tool I have.  Words insistent and inadequate.

I pulled weeds instead (there are plenty of those to go around).  I took a walk.

I was, I'll admit this to you, afraid.

Tomorrow is another day.


Melissa Sarno said...

Oh dear. :-( You know what you need to do in a situation like this? Eat cake... For dinner. And take a picture of it, since you are the cakerazzi.

Becca said...

It's good to get some distance and the perspective of fresh air when things feel overwhelming.

One pile at a time.

Deep breaths...

LisaSam said...

good luck. I look forward to them all, esp the new memoir:)

Lilian Nattel said...

Oh Beth you're amazing. 3 ms! It's ok to take a breath. And yes, one thing at a time.

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