Intermission

The joy of having a blog is the freedom to write about whatever you want to write. And if your life doesn’t interfere with the process, forcing you to direct your time and energy elsewhere, you can write as often as you like. Unless, occasionally, there is an intermission.

Regular readers of this site will notice that I haven’t posted anything in a few months. (Thank you for missing me.) Rest assured that I am still here and still working. I’m just temporarily sidetracked by other things.

Currently, one of those things is a book I’m writing. It’s a memoir of sorts. If I am learning anything during this process, it is that no other piece of writing requires one to be so self-revealing as a memoir. It’s like exposing yourself naked to the world. That is if you are to be honest. Being honest doesn’t mean that you have to reveal everything. You can be honest and still hold back. If it is too embarrassing or too painful to air dirty laundry, you can either rewash it to remove the stains or throw it out. Choice is a wonderful thing.

Another lesson that I am learning from my latest undertaking is that writing a memoir dredges up long-suppressed thoughts and emotions, like when my husband and I divorced back in the early 1970s. I remained friendly with his parents who lived in another state although I rarely saw them. Sometime around 1975 my father-in-law phoned and asked me to bring the children for a visit since he had not seen them in a few years. I boarded the train with my two children and took the four-hour ride to Far Rockaway, New York, and we all spent an enjoyable weekend together. Three months later my father-in-law was dead of a heart attack. I was glad I had made the trip. I interjected that bit of information because it reveals one of the heartfelt memories resurrected while working on the book.

Although the book is a long-term project that is occupying much of my time, I don’t mind. The fact is that I love to write, and grasp every opportunity. I credit my experience writing  for a local newspaper, years ago, with keeping me eager to accept challenges and untroubled by negative criticism.  Lucky for me – and to the chagrin of some folks – my tendency to be opinionated and my sense of humor remain intact.

Some people live to travel and party, the nerd in me lives to read and write. I thank God everyday for my writing skills and count my blessings like a gambler counts chips. This blog is one of those blessings.

We’ll connect again when I put up my next post. Right now, I’ve got to get back to work. In the meantime, contemplate the eloquent words of novelist, Margaret Laurence, who wrote, “When I say work I only mean writing.  Everything else is just odd jobs.”