first step

Pandora is playing the most random assortment of songs this afternoon: Nina Simone, Michael Jackson, Rihanna, WHAM!, Sia, Adele, Big Mama Thornton. Earlier today I went for a run and the carousel in Prospect Park was playing the theme song from Dr. Zhivago—followed by a song I’m sure is by Boney M! Normally I do what I have to do without music in the background; I don’t run with music and can get distracted with too many singalongs if I write with Pandora on. But I am testing my mettle these days. Last week I started a fast that involves abstaining from cake, cookies, and pie—no junk food or fast food for 21 days. We’re in the middle of a heat wave and I’m not allowed to have ice cream. Today I went into Duane Reade and my favorite brand of kettle corn was on sale but I couldn’t buy a bag. I had to pass Chipotle without going inside, and I’ve been at the grocery store a LOT because I can no longer just pick something up for dinner on my way home. I miss chocolate more than I thought I would, but I’m not giving up sugar entirely; I can have fruit and I’m still eating mini-wheats for breakfast. I suspect that by the time I reach the end of that 21st day, I’m just going to binge on all the things I’ve denied myself for the past 3 weeks. But I want to believe I can do this. Just like I want to believe—have to believe—that I can finish this novel by the end of August. It’s a new month; my horoscope says this will be the best month of my professional life, so I’m going for it while the stars are aligned in my favor. Today I mailed some books to a deserving teacher and then came home to chicken and brown rice with raspberries for dessert (sigh). Then I made myself open the file that contains the novel I started back in 2003. I also pulled up the outline but then remembered I had a printed copy somewhere. That led me to unpack the tray that sits on my ottoman and collects all the loose papers that would otherwise clutter my desk. I found a giant folder from 2003, then another with notes and articles and photographs from the last time I worked seriously on this historical novel, which was 2013. Mixed in were notes for The Deep and other projects I’ve started and finished over the past decade. But I finally found my outline; it says out of 51 planned chapters, I’ve got 41 done, 8 partially done, and 2 I haven’t started at all. So that’s what I’ll be doing for the next 30 days. Mixed in with all the novel-related crap was this poem by Lucille Clifton, which really resonated with me today—as it must have when I “filed” it in the tray years ago. Like so many Black women artists, I have shaped my dreams and talents and limited resources into “a kind of life.” And I’ve been knocked down a few times, but I haven’t been defeated yet…