From January 5, 2015
Writing is a thread that traces backwards. It's a spiderweb that spins me each day, wrapping and unwrapping me. Lets me look back.
This agitation on my breath and in my legs and in my jaw and eyes, crabs pinching.
Write it all gone. Light radiating in the near distance. And really go.
I know this panic is about my dad more than my schedule. I think of the rain pattering on his grave. I think of the twitchy way he rubbed his toes together. His humming, whistling, underbreath grunts. I think of him listening to the radio, the TV on, the radio tuned to a different station in a different room, all at once, whenever Mom was away on errands and he was home.
With him at the base of my thoughts, I think of him when I think of all the things on my list. Writing is my way through it. Shows me where to look. My lantern. My compass into peace. Where I've been and where I'm going. Where I am and where I need to mark my next step.
Over time, I realize I can use this space for whatever I want. Posts like above are ones I'd usually reserve for 50 Shades of Kraay, and previously avoided sharing them from here. At first I wouldn't think this piece was process related. But of course it is. This is from my daily writing practice, which is all process, raw material I unleash without knowing where it will go, and read through later on. And it's about writing. So there, editor brain.
The longer I keep up this space, I have to make keep it fun and interesting for me, thereby following my interest wherever it goes. Right now it's going here to this two year old writing -- and to my cat playing fetch with me and her neon green toy mouse. So you can expect more posts like this, and like anything that feels right to me at the time. Thanks for reading!
Process notes on a work in progress. This page serves to invite you into the way I work, with intermittent posts to show you the hows and whys on the whats I make.