I think of the Ides of March not so much a metaphor for impending doom, but more a time of uncertainty, of shifting tectonic plates. Of blood coursing through veins too fast, too hot.
I watch the earth in our garden crack, the soil heaving upward; I like to think of the repressed plants rebelling against the last of the cold and thrusting upward to the sun. That’s how my heart feels this time of year: yearning, striving, desiring something more, something greater. It’s my time of restlessness, of pacing behind my psychic boundaries like a caged cougar.
Big day for me, the Ides of March. Some 15 years ago, I defended my doctoral dissertaton, a watershed of sorts. Today, when I woke early to write, I wished Ben, the protagonist of Brighter than Bright and Pure, a happy 28th birthday. Then a couple of hours later, my son woke with a fever and a sore, swollen throat that compelled us to rush to the on-call pediatrician, who diagnosed strep (again!). And then, as if our family life is not complex enough, we adopted a four-year old Sheltie mix, a cute red-head named Georgie. It’s been a full day. A wonderful day, despite the unease of change thrumming through me.
Big writing week:
• Icarus Arisen. A poem that’s teased me for over two months. I’m quite happy with it, but threw it in a red manila folder anyway and will revisit it before shopping it around.
• Finding Out. A short non-fiction piece about the conception of my son after years of infertility. A personal milestone for me (both my son and the writing of this piece). Also marinating in the manila folder.
• The damn synopsis. I spent at least 30 hours on this over the last two weeks. But I managed to eke out a half-decent draft for my WritersOnline class and Nudge-Nudge Collective to review.
• Brighter than Bright. Committed to a reading at our Unitarian Universalist church in two weeks. Gulp.
• The Muse and the Marketplace. Booked my flight and hotel for this Boston Grub Street sponsored writing conference in late April and signed up for an agent review of my novel. Great writers: Jonathan Franzen, Anita Shreve, Karl Iagnemma – among others. Pumped is an understatement.
Keep writing… Peace, Linda
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Linda,
ReplyDeleteThis posting was pure poetry. I loved the strength of your sentences and the images you supplied, all of which describe the anticipation felt as you defiantly strive for something brighter--something more.
I think many of us feel the same way. There are plenty of distractions that sing to us like sirens, trying to lure us away from the passion that we call writing, only to dash us against the rocks. Resist, we say. Resist and press on against the current. Our future is out there, beyond where the sun touches the horizon. And though we may not have associated our feelings with the Ides of March--our struggle against the forces that resist--you've now given us something we can identify with.
Keep it up!
congratulations on the new family member!!! And happy birthday to Ben!
ReplyDeleteStephen, your comment is pure poetry. Thrown those lines into stanza form and - voila!
ReplyDeleteTwiz, Ben says thanks for the salutations. And so does Georgie!
Happy Spring and Easter and Purim and all that is good. Peace...