This photo taken on a cold December evening keeps rising to my attention. Something about the warmth of the yellow-orange, interior light in contrast with the cold, monochrome blue outside world seizes my imagination. Have you ever walked down a street at night, seeing snippets of life going on in the orangey glow of other people’s houses? You almost feel like you are not in the world; you’re in some other realm, veiled, lifted away from the laughter and the fingers running through hair and animated talk on a phone and the hot mug of something carried through a doorway. You are an observer, like someone watching TV, but the world is the TV and you’re outside of it. It can be an unsettling feeling, or lonely, or sometimes just a temporary removal, since you know you have your own warm box of light to return to, soon enough. Still, you might stop and wonder about being separated from all that life forever some day, and you walk a little faster towards home, because you’re not ready for that just yet. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 148: 181 words, TOTAL = 24,066; 35,934 remaining
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I happened to capture this enchanting moment on my in from the morning dog walk today. Some incidents occur once in your meandering life, when a bunch of things align, and you happen to be there as a witness. I like to believe in magic, as long as it’s the benevolent kind. Photography seems only incidental to my blog project, but sometimes a photograph has greater impact. Does this speak a thousand words to you? My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 147: 75 words, TOTAL = 23,885; 36,115 remaining I am a football fan, despite the dark side of the sport: brain damage, domestic abuse, violent crimes. Through my Husson students, I’ve witnessed how football serves as academic inspiration, physical well-being, escape from poverty and hardship, and a powerful sense of belonging. The elaborate, cooperative assaults and defenses on the football field make me think of war room strategies. I don’t like war, but maybe humans need a warlike outlet, and in football, generally, no one dies. However, the thoughtless exploitation of Native American people seems like something even football should have outgrown by now. While the Kansas City Chiefs vied for a berth in the Super Bowl today, tens of thousands of fans gave war cries and did tomahawk chops in unison. WTF? This is not about hurt feelings. This is about publicly perpetuating a demeaning caricature. The callous ignorance make me cringe. I can’t imagine how it would feel to a Native American of any age, especially young people. I hope Kansas City loses the Super Bowl. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 146: 170 words, TOTAL = 23,810; 36,190 remaining I wonder if you’ve noticed that my blog avoids the news. I’m quite aware of all the mess, the falses and the trues. Impeachment is enormous, then again it’s sort of not; With Trump as head of state we hear unheard-ofs quite a lot. My paucity of politics is not a blog mistake. The rest of life continues, is the point I’d like to make. I hope we’ll all work hard to tell the real news from the fake, But also we should give our frazzled faculties a break. No matter who’s in power, we all work and rest and eat, And love our friends and family and give furry friends a treat. Oh yes, work hard for goodness! Be a beneficial force. But also we are human, and we must refresh our source. The sun comes up, the moon goes ‘round, the seasons flow and ebb; Breathe deeply in the whole wide world; shut down the World Wide Web. Reserve some time to be an independent self, alone. There’s wisdom in our natures, if we’ll just turn off the phone. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 145: 181 words, TOTAL = 23,640; 36,360 remaining Clara - a fine canine specimen who doesn't get enough attention in my blog I’ve felt pretty gross for a few days, not just with a cold, but with a sinking, systemic discouragement about my book. I drag myself out of bed, unenthused at the prospect of more impotent wanderings and futility. Another quotation without a citation, no idea of the source. Paralysis-stricken over how to proceed and prioritize. HOWEVER – first thing this morning, I found the quote’s source! Then, I reached out to my copyeditor in NYC about tracking my edits to sync with hers. At the end of the call, unsolicited, she said, “by the way. I have to tell you…” (oh no!) “…I am really enjoying your book” (really??!). She went on to talk about the “gut punch” of the ending, how beautiful my letters are, how well paced the unfolding. I almost wept with gratitude; I could hardly speak. Damn. Positive reinforcement is a real thing. I sure needed that. She also said my despair was right on target for this stage of the publication journey. Yay, I’m normal! Thank you, Molly Lindley Pisani. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 144: 174 words, TOTAL = 23,459; 36,541 remaining Rachel Field and Spriggin, in a photograph from the Horn Book Magazine, March 1942 edition The most recent consuming business on my Rachel Field biography is copyrights and permissions. I have located her husband’s will in my files, contacted the Author’s Guild, read about “public domain,” “orphan works,” and “fair use,” and got several useful leads from fellow writers online. The Author’s Guild has been a boon beyond my expectations. As with any field, it is enormously encouraging to hear from colleagues who both offer support and share experiences. Everything looks good enough to move forward, and She Writes Press is willing to go with it, but lack of absolute clarity makes me anxious. Next job – go through my manuscript again and identify the source for every poem and quotation from her works and letters. I’m getting tired of this book. Rachel, I wish I had you here with me. I crave your expertise and tenacity. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 143: 141 words, TOTAL = 23,285; 36,715 remaining Kate’s been revitalized by the Gabapentin our vet prescribed a couple of weeks ago. Many’s the time we’ve anticipated her end of days. We thought she’d never see another winter; wondered about digging a grave out back before the freeze; assumed she’d never make it to age 14, but here she is, 2 ½ weeks from her birthday, hanging in there. The Gabapentin response surprised me. She didn’t seem in pain, just slow and sleepy and creaky. Clearly there was discomfort, now alleviated. She’s interested in sticks again, shows up with a ball, generally more engaged. I need to pay attention. Kate’s acceptance of and adaptations to her aging process are models of grace. Never complain. Take your time. Approach stairs slowly, one paw at a time. Keep to the comfortable path; avoid territory that tangles you up. Run and play when you feel up to it. Sleep a lot. Express love for your family. Enjoy treats. Look people in the eye. Accept help. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day142: 164 words, TOTAL = 23,144; 36,856 remaining I love splitting kindling. It also makes me crazy. Jonathan, a highly rational person, taught me the essential splitting technique. “Focus on the spot you want to hit,” he said. “I AM focusing!” I want to say, adolescently. It sounds like magical thinking, but when I’m able to find that focus, it works! Awesome! The problem is, so much of the time I can’t find the focus. Chop! Wood flings to the floor, unscathed. Head games. The same forces are at work in tennis, golf, probably every hand-eye coordination sport or challenge – archery, riflery, baseball, carpentry, darts, bowling, backyard corn hole, you name it. Some days you’re on; other days your snowball misses the tree trunk entirely; you hammer yourself in the thumb. Aggravation and failure escalate, hand in hand. What is the magic secret to setting the brain on the right trajectory? On good days, sweet empowerment! On bad days, better just read a book. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 141: 156 words, TOTAL = 22,980; 37,020 remaining We had rain, then freezing rain, then a very cold snap. Goes with the territory around here. I don’t know how I survived winter before I had microspikes. I guess was I younger and more agile, and less worried about crashing to the ground and breaking bones. Ever since I got these beauties from Jonathan one Christmas, I feel like I have magic powers when I venture over icy ground. Instead of wobbling, slipping, sliding, catching myself, walking like an old lady on a tightrope with arms splayed wide – I stride ahead assertively in a straight line, not a care for the terrain beneath my chain-mailed feet. I am invincible. I love my microspikes. I wrote a poem a few years ago called “Crampons, A New Contemplation.” It’s too long to reprint here, but check it out on the new poetry page on my website. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 140: 145 words, TOTAL = 22,824; 37,176 remaining Anne Lamott giving a TED talk in 2017, "12 truths I learned from life and writing." I stumbled upon an Anne Lamott TED talk this morning. As always, her simple wisdom made me laugh, contemplate, and feel, the very things I aspire to elicit with my own writing. She also empowers me to slog on with my writing. Sometimes I fear my writing is a lot of self-absorbed, navel-gazing drivel, or that I’m wasting my own and others’ time with banalities. Lamott’s words set me back, humbly, on my horse: “You're going to feel like hell if you wake up someday and you never wrote the stuff that is tugging on the sleeves of your heart: your stories, memories, visions and songs -- your truth, your version of things -- in your own voice. That's really all you have to offer us, and that's also why you were born.” Thank you, Anne. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 139: 136 words, TOTAL = 22,679; 37,321 remaining |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is an award-winning author, poet, and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her children, grandchildren, and granddogs. Archives
October 2024
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