Today I remembered a story. It involved a woman...and her daughter? on a drive in the country, who end up staying at a remote estate with their genius host. The host is a philosopher or a scientist or something, and as they women spend more time at the estate, more is revealed to be out of the ordinary. I don't recall many of the details, and as this tale popped into my head, I tried to recall where or when I had read it, or who the author was.
Then I surprised myself by recalling that I was the author.
I started this story half a dozen years ago, during a NaNoWriMo month. I don't think I hit my 50,000 word goal, and I never finished it. I think I remember getting bogged down in that middle-of-the-book-bog that so often grips me in the process of longer works.
Now, I've mentioned before that my iron levels have been dangerously low, and I've been dutifully taking my iron supplements twice daily for eight months now. I am fairly certain my ferritin (stored iron) levels, while still in the "normal" range, have been dropping steadily for several years. Which has resulted in a major decrease in my physical and mental energy, ability to be active, productive, and even awake.
I've been remembering projects, ideas, plans, and dreams lately, feeling like Rip Van Winkle waking up to realize that years have slipped me, unused. I've lost a lot of time.
I didn't submit anything for publication the last two years. I didn't finish the memoir I was sure would be done two summers ago. I failed at every planned task of writing, editing, planning, and even attending workshops and writing conferences.
I don't know that I will go back to this story of mine, but the fact that I had completely forgotten writing it is telling. I sometimes feel the need to give myself a bit of space to grieve what I've lost (health, time, productivity), but also feel maybe more of a push just to get back to it. I'm still rebuilding my work schedule - my regular writing hours, time to the business of my writing, time to do the editing and work of other writers I've made agreements with... I'm sometimes asked: Do you have to time to do this? And the honest answer is, "I don't know," but I am eager to try.
Then I surprised myself by recalling that I was the author.I started this story half a dozen years ago, during a NaNoWriMo month. I don't think I hit my 50,000 word goal, and I never finished it. I think I remember getting bogged down in that middle-of-the-book-bog that so often grips me in the process of longer works.
Now, I've mentioned before that my iron levels have been dangerously low, and I've been dutifully taking my iron supplements twice daily for eight months now. I am fairly certain my ferritin (stored iron) levels, while still in the "normal" range, have been dropping steadily for several years. Which has resulted in a major decrease in my physical and mental energy, ability to be active, productive, and even awake.
I've been remembering projects, ideas, plans, and dreams lately, feeling like Rip Van Winkle waking up to realize that years have slipped me, unused. I've lost a lot of time.
I didn't submit anything for publication the last two years. I didn't finish the memoir I was sure would be done two summers ago. I failed at every planned task of writing, editing, planning, and even attending workshops and writing conferences.
I don't know that I will go back to this story of mine, but the fact that I had completely forgotten writing it is telling. I sometimes feel the need to give myself a bit of space to grieve what I've lost (health, time, productivity), but also feel maybe more of a push just to get back to it. I'm still rebuilding my work schedule - my regular writing hours, time to the business of my writing, time to do the editing and work of other writers I've made agreements with... I'm sometimes asked: Do you have to time to do this? And the honest answer is, "I don't know," but I am eager to try.
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