Saturday, January 19, 2008
It snowed for a few hours today. Not heavily, but it was nice. The cold has been bitter today.
I apologize that I haven't been writing much this week and have been sort of uncommunicative. I don't mean to be. It's just taking me a bit longer to adjust to the goats not being here than I thought. They were such a huge part of my identity for so long. It's sort of like when I left CNN...that was a really big investment of self, too. It's harder to reinvent yourself when the reinvention is not of your choosing.
I'm beginning to think that the hard edits I've been putting my work through may not be the best thing for it. I seem to lose so much of the poetry in my words. I think I'm just going to try to clean things up as much as possible, but not make them so perfect. The perfection feels cold and stilted--removing parts of my voice. And--as many writers in my genre as I've been reading--they don't seem to be going to the lengths I've been going to in editing. And they are all published. There are quite a few literary conventions that have changed since I studied writing, so I think I'll just pay attention to those and toe that little contrived line.
Friend Scott's well ran dry a few weeks ago. If God is behind all this I'm sort of sure the message is "Scott---Move---Now---I Really Mean It This Time." The braining by shovel episode was too subtle, evidently. Knowing Scott, though...I'm pretty sure God is going to need to rent a U-Haul and show up to help with the move wearing a bubba cap.
Just so we are really clear about the state of the Pink House in the Holler...It has no heat(except wood), no insulation, holes in the bathroom floor for snakes to crawl up for visits--and now--newly subtracted--no plumbing or running water. And--is 50 miles one way from Scott's permanent job. He's showering at the gym these days.
I know you're missing your goats and I hope the void will be filled in time. Things are changing and if you're like me, I don't take change very well.
Poor "Friend Scott" sounds like he is having a rough time if it. That is the price one pays for the beauty and serenity of the mountains. It's wonderful in the summer months but winter is a hard master. (My son is going through the water and heat situation too in his mountain abode. But come spring and warm weather the hard times will all be forgotten.) Have you found a place to move yet?
hugs
Leeuna
P.S. Don't over-edit. Keep your original voice. That is what makes it uniquely you.
Friend Scott's house sounds like the one on my farm, only mine is just 25 miles one way from town. I don't live in it, though. My uncle does. Sort of.
Go for the poetry. Leave the polished "perfection" for pieces in the New Yorker (which have usually left me a little cold), and use your own warm, rich voice.