The stereotype of writers being antisocial is often patently false although there are some who are true introverts. As for myself, the first time I wrote a novel I was not even alone in the room I wrote it in and I was glad that I was not. I like people and ever since becoming a mother 18 years ago now, have tended to be more extroverted. In truth, my true nature is right in the middle – so I’m retiring and shy for an extroverted and a people and party loving person compared to most introverts.
The past two days have been better, in terms of writing, than many I have had for a while. The good news is that I have both edited and written. the dark side, so to speak, is that my head is a bit in a la la land. I have given the main characters hard lives, frankly and so my relatively boring and tame real life is something of a relief by comparison. Even so, I love the characters and the story is a bit surprising.
I have been working with cross cultural interstellar mercenaries from radically different ideologies. I created, devised or discovered them many years before I knew that I would have to reformulate the beginning of their story while living in a foreign country many years later…Sometimes my real life has also been surprising.
Well, it is already the 15th of the month and the feeling of Autumn is increasingly present and real. We are already into the second round of seasonal decor here because the first round was about the very local village Harvest Festival and the rest is more along the lines of Americana.
I know it gets darker and then lighter on North America as well as over in Europe but my present location is North by one of those 10 degree regions one finds on globes above where I have lived over on North America in the US of A, and so, it still feels more extreme here. Due to this over and above my years in England, this means this is the 6th time I have experienced this time of year at this latitude. Not being from here, instead of having grown up in it and going through this at age 6 or 7 years, it was like this a little bit during my late 20s and a little more during my early 40s.
Some days stand out in marked contrast from one another in one’s mind, eve as gems for years – precious memories. Other days seem like a dull grey boredom that one would like to just wipe out. There were two years when I was able to work as a trainee to the Master Gardener of estates for wealthy urban people – the yards of rich people. They are often a little more or differently complicated than poorer peoples’ yards. You’ve seen pix of hedgerow mazes, so you know what I mean. Anyway, when I did that, one of many lessons was to recognize and accept wash outs as well as working days and to differentiate them from off season.
Some days there is really not much one can do, other than have the sense to accept the conditions one is really dealing with.
By the way, most of you know, but there are 3 weeks in the late Spring after a rain when growth speeds up about 7 notches. If you don’t pay attention the right way at that time, your yard could be a mess for the rest of the year: weeds don’t care whether or not your wealthy, middle class or poor but will notice if they are fertilized, torn out, or left to do their thing without interference.
What you may not have expected from ‘just the gardeners’ was that there was more than Master’s degree, and multiple professional and high level amateur writers as well as Mums and Ravers on the small crews I worked with. I’m just telling you because I don’t know what your stereotypes about rich peoples’ gardener’s are. Rumor has it the gardeners are most likely to accommodate an aristocrat’s need or desire for an extramarital affair. You’ve actually met and all of that. Funny or sad but true?
That’s not what happens most days.
I’m not sure what I was getting at other than that some days just are or seem like repeats of other days, but some events stand out in our minds even years later.
Today has been a long slow day. I have noticed over the years, as has everyone else, that the rate of speed at which any given day passes may vary a great deal.
So far, the longest years of my life…Well, right now, I am not sure which year of my childhood was the longest one but I can report that it did take forever for me to grow up, but according to calendars it took actually between 16 or maybe 18 years to make me a starter-adult.
The longest years of my adult life so far have been: 1) the year I was pregnant for the first time. In that case, it was not slow because I was bored or miserable but was so long because every few minutes it seemed that I or someone else was asking about how soon the baby was due. That’s your basic “Are we there yet?” causing 5 minutes to last 6 hours type of shift in consciousness. 2) the years of living in Germany but in the latter case sadly not for happy reasons but because so little has happened and I am still feeling the void caused by not having an in home lover and the decompression of not having to live with any abuse that time just drags on a lot of the time. I have also been sober except that I drink so much coffee I may not really be sober at all.
It is not really as if nothing has happened. My son is nearly 3 years older. I have learned tons of German and ghostwritten and written a couple of full length books, and had a short booklet released. The general flow of it has felt bizarre compared to before and just in time for me to start the second half of my life and to check to see if I need to have a midlife crisis or if I just need to gear up for the stage of life called ‘now that the child/ren have grown’. I only have one, but that’s the phase that starts later this year.