My Row80 check-in is below, beginning with the blue RoW80 goals. My WIPpet Wednesday offering is below, beginning with the green WIPpet Wednesday.
For the past week, I have been a packing fool. Well, actually, a recycling, pay-it-forward fool. I have rid the house of enough paper to insulate a small house, given away enough too-small clothing to endow a village, and sent enough yarn to my niece to keep her knitting for a couple of years. How does it feel? Like the weight of twenty boxes of books have been lifted off my chest. I greatly appreciate all the advice I received on my last post to let go of things (I’m looking at you, Karen!) I do think I was ready for this divestment, because I am finding it easier to let go of things I have hung onto for years. I am finally looking at what works for me now, not what I wanted to have around me twenty years ago. The treadle sewing machine? It can delight someone else; my in-law’s bedroom furniture will be a perfect fit for someone else’s tastes more than mine. I am keeping small things–a few pieces of my mother’s jewelry, my father’s wedding band–evocative in ways that other things are not.
Although I have been madly uncluttering, my writing is not far from me. I feel I am creating space for it, in a way I have not been able for several years. My younger son asked to have my writing desk, and I feel it offers us both a new start in the new house. I am looking forward to creating a space that will be calm, inviting, and inspiring.
For WIPpet Wednesday, I dusted off a piece that has been dormant for more than a year. I have been trying to get into the head of my English war bride, not very successfully. I’m still telling more than showing, I fear. Here are 16 very rough sentences from a scene where the main characters have been dating for a few months. John asks Helen about her plans for the future, after the war, and she responds with “a husband and children.”
Suddenly it felt as though my heart shifted, literally shifted place in my chest, as if someone had reached in and settled it more firmly in place. This man, this husband, this father of my children. It rose up from someplace deep within me—my heart, my soul, I do not know, but I felt the surety of it, and it scared the hell out of me. I wasn’t ready for this. I started to shiver like I was in shock. John folded me into his arms; I felt so protected, so safe, so loved.
“You’re cold,” he said.
“I’m not cold.”
“But you’re shaking.”
Yes, I was shaking, but I could not tell him why. I could not even look at him, afraid that he would see my heart in my eyes, and somehow everything would change. I wasn’t ready.
Damn it all to hell. There was nowhere to hide. “Yes, I am.”
So, RoW80 goals. I am in the boring part of the non-fiction piece, checking footnotes and compiling. all the various files I have created through the years, so although it isn’t new writing it circles the writing and gives it space and context. I continue to be utterly horrible at check-ins. I first typed I didn’t know what the problem is, but I do. I am so busy with things that are not creative, but I suppose I should concentrate on how it is all clearing space for creativity. Even so, I struggle with feeling I don’t have much of interest to say.
Please go check out how all the other ROwers are doing here.