Gone Fishin'

My “weekly” writing prompt—ooops! (And do I have enough notes and calendars??)

I’m not actually going fishing. And, in all honesty, I’m not even leaving Silver Linings anytime soon. But what has become clear to me is that I need to slow down to maybe a crawl and the clarity came from just how many things I’m failing at lately.

I mean, it’s not like I remodeled my reflecting pool only to have it turn into a algae-rific disaster. No, my failures are more of the forgetful and clumsy kind. Small, but noticeable to me. Like the time, soon after my caregiving stint began in April of 2016, I wrote about having made a pretty big mistake in one of the jobs I did have at the time. Again, it’s not like I forgot to lock the front door and allowed a bunch of criminals in the house, but when I was planning a winter getaway for Angelo and me, I realized I had also scheduled a new writing workshop for the same dates. I hate doing stuff like that.

Ten years of caregiving, deaths, cancer and grief have taken a toll. Fortunately, I was in relatively good shape physically and financially to be able to handle all the family needs and responsibilities that showed up at our doorstep. Unfortunately, it was probably the ten years I needed to make that one last push to prepare for our retirement and whatever needs and responsibilities we’d have for insuring that. As a writer, I don’t think I’ll ever “retire”, but trying to write books, sell books, book speaking and teaching engagements and possibly even picking up a regular column or other writing gig should have been done much sooner. Nobody even looks my way anymore when they’re looking for writers or teachers. Not that there was a lot of attention in my 50s-early 60s, but at least I had more energy and confidence then.

For the last couple of years, I’ve been trying to make up for that lost time. I did get a book published, but it came out soon after Annie died and the work I needed to do to promote it was, well, challenging. I was in the midst of publishing another book, too, and that one didn’t get nearly the attention it deserved, especially since it was an anthology and the contributors were counting on me. Trying to ramp up my writing program, Writual, has been laughable…every time I think I’ve got a great idea for a course or workshop, it doesn’t run or there’s no interest—or whatever. I get that other people are busy, too, but it feels—for me—that I’m Sisyphus and the boulder is my writing career. So, naturally, I should work harder, right? Figure out how to do videos, do more podcasts. Get myself out there! Check off that ever growing “To-Do” list!

Eh. I don’t think so. At least not this summer.

I’ve been trying to spend so much time figuring out ways to pitch and sell my work that I think I need to instead take some time to pitch me. The last few days laid it all out pretty clear for me: On Saturday, I was in Maine, cleaning the cottage top to bottom to get it ready for renters and then drove home to Connecticut but not before forgetting to bring home the bananas that would now kind of stink up the place. Sunday, we spent Father’s Day afternoon in Woodbury, which I thankfully had time to run out beforehand and get cards and treats, then returned home to Watertown to unpack. On Monday, I headed back to Woodbury, to look after Luca while his dad was out of town. As my daughter-in-law quipped as I packed up my car Monday afternoon: “Wow…that’s three homes in three days!”

So, instead of ramping up, I’m going to be—well, whatever the opposite of ramping up is. This afternoon, we’re going to the pool. Tomorrow, I might do nothing. I’m clearing my calendar and my brain of “have-tos” and focusing on “me-toos.” As my sister once wrote,

“I am no longer Sisyphus,
I am the boulder.”¹

My writers’ groups are safe from this slowdown of course and you’ll see something from me each week on Silver Linings. I’m going to try and fit in a few more trips to Maine and there’s a high school reunion still penciled in on my calendar. And, naturally, I’ll be on call for whatever Gramma-duty shows up, as long as it involves ice cream.

And a nap.

Think I’ll follow this guy’s lead.

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*I’m not one to complain…I’ve been very lucky to have some extraordinary things happen for me and my writing career, too. Let’s not forget presenting at Erma or the number of anthologies I’ve been accepted in and a couple of other honors I’ve recieved. I’m grateful. ♥ Just a little tired. :)

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1. From “The Myth of Sisyphus” by Susan D.E. Allison
Down by the Riverside Ways Antrim House 2009