Around the Bend

Dear Karen,

I’ve been sick, sick for two weeks. Life did not come to a grinding halt, although in retrospect, it should have. The fact is I did not know that I was as sick as I was. It’s only in wellness that I’ve come to see what an altered state I was living in.

I know I did things. I met people. I taught. I probably spread my germs, but the whole time I thought this was a bad case of pollen allergies and not something contagious. So far, so good. None of the people I came in contact with have sent me death threats yet.

Of course writing was out of the question, but it’s been kind of out of the question for awhile, ever since I finished the last book, soon to be published. And then there was the editing on that book. Track Changes, which I wrote to you about. And now there is proofing the final copy, which requires yet another close comb-through of a story that I could now probably recite in my sleep. I don’t mean to complain, but sometimes I feel like I am looking for nits, that this is the relationship I now have with my character and his story.

I do want to be honest though. Honesty is one reason I started this blog, and one reason I am so glad you’re a part of it. There are so few places in this world where honesty, real honesty, not to be confused with meanness, is appreciated, or even allowed. Here’s what I want to be honest about: My book is about to hit the shelves. This is the most glamorous part of writing, when the public actually sees the fruit of two years private labor. So why do I feel depressed?

It’s always like this. It’s not that I don’t want people to read my book. It’s not that I don’t want success and praise. It’s not that I don’t want to promote my work. It’s just that it all feels so huge, and so nebulous sometimes I find that all I want to do is clean the sink. Sometimes I want a task to perform that gives instant gratification. A clean sink, for instance, or even more ambitious, a clean bathroom. The fact is, I know how to clean. I’m confident in my ability to clean. Maybe what I am feeling around promotion is simply lack of self esteem, the age old thought of I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

This is something I used to feel when I was writing. I felt overwhelmed in the midst of a novel, unable to see the ending, or how the threads of the story were going to weave together. I no longer feel this way, although at some point I might again. But lately, while I am writing a novel I simply see the task as a huge, intricate puzzle. And I see my characters as having chosen me as their author. I see it all as an amazing invitation from the divine, an invitation to step into another world and become the voice for someone else. This is something I hope to remember while I am not writing, but am in the world promoting writing that I have already done. Feel free to remind me.

I hope that I won’t need reminding that the next story is waiting for me just around the bend. I won’t need reminding that it’s this invitation from the divine that keeps me working, and gladly. I need only keep my heart open, and keep walking toward that invitation. If I forget, remind me. Tell me to go read my own letters to you, particularly the one dated May 5, 2013.

Much love,

Nancy