Round and Round the Thorny Path

 September 26, 2021

This one is a request from a friend. Thanks for prodding me to write a post—you know who you are.

 

I’ve been busy and I’ve been muddling through a mixture of doubtful feelings about hmm… what else karate and writing. Been feeling very tired and frustrated teaching karate in continued covid times. I thought the restrictions would be done with at some point but they go on and on. Meanwhile attention to all, and subsequently the curriculum, suffers as I am forced to stick with the same group of five throughout the class. Also, either the zoom attendees get a good training or the ones present in class do, as I make choices about how much partner work to include. Round and round and no way out, but perhaps the circle is not closed but is an outward-bound spiral?

 

Battling with these thoughts I made my way to the library after training yesterday. I had a pile of books that I had borrowed but not read, well I'd read one out of six, to return. These days I seem to be searching for answers to life issues outside myself, often in books. I browse books, carry them home and feel disappointed when they resolve nothing. I do this a lot, but at least I am not buying them. Yesterday I looked at the shelves of book choices curated by the librarians and picked up three. I’ve found writers I’ve never heard of but loved once I read them, on these shelves. Two sounded interesting but something inside knew that I wouldn’t read them. I put them away. They don’t have the solutions I need. I walked to the back and pulled out a few books of poetry. I read for the hour they allow one to sit in the library on weekends. I borrowed three.

 

At home, I heard a podcast. An interview with Walter Mosley. The interviewer quoted from his book, ‘You need poetry in your life or your words will never sing with the divinity of the ordinary.’ I felt a quickening. I wanted to write the divinity of the ordinary but was so far from it at present. 

 

I’ve enrolled in an online writing course. It has shown me so clearly the ways in which my writing has diminished. It is painful but I feel a sense of detachment about it too—like I am looking at myself from outside and deciding what steps to take to find the beauty and truth in writing again. Also believing, despite having no reason to, that I can do this. 

 

And a report on my progress. After re-writing chapter one of the novel I couldn’t find my way into chapter two. But I’d managed to map out the story arc, and I’ve lived with this book for so many years that I moved on and re-wrote one further along. Then fleshed out the ‘skeletons’ of two more. I could have worked further on the novel, but I really wanted to unfold the temple story. I wrestled with it five days a week for two weeks. It is the story of a friendship torn apart by differing political opinions. I began writing it from the perspective of the person closest to my own opinions, those critical of the government, but was unhappy. I wanted to write this story to explore the pain I feel that conversations about politics end with neither side changing even an iota of their opinions. This wasn’t always so and I need to find a way to the other side. So, I changed perspective and wrote from the character who supports the government so thoroughly that she never challenges or questions their messes. This is hard but if can proceed it will be worthwhile. So far all I have is the name of my MC. Last Sunday I was able to recite the entire story to my spouse. I said this happens and then this and then this. But I still cannot find the words to write it on paper. I don’t know in which sequence and shape to tell it. It’s extremely frustrating. I think I’ll shelve it for a while. As for the work on the karate writing, I haven’t done anything, not even read my older pieces which I have printed out and put together. 

 

This is where I am. Writing more, happier with it, but not making much tangible progress yet definitely brewing internally. Also, I am struggling with lack of sleep. It leaves me perennially exhausted but forces me to prioritize and make choices, drop out of things as I no longer have the energy to do everything that wants to be done. I think this was one of the messages of my obliterator. My symptoms still guide me but I'd love a ton more sleep, just one night would be great.

Weekly Accountability!

September 6, 2021

Last week was productive. It feels strange and scary to say that after such a long arid period. The part of me that is superstitious says, don’t publicize it yet. ‘It’ is not yet 3 months old. Many cultures don’t share pregnancy news till the second trimester. 

 

But I need to. I realised that the 27 days of blog writing besides building trust in words also was a way of being accountable to myself to write daily. 

 

So here goes…

Last week I finally rewrote the first chapter of Boiling Frogs. I had been very blocked but kept going back in thought to it while sitting in buses, or walking, or being treated at the physio. No words emerged for two months but then on Thursday I manged a rewrite. Long way to go yet as at least 12 more chapters (out of 33) need rework. Rewriting a completed novel is so difficult. The narrative feels set, in stone, and it’s hard to see what other shape it could be. 

 

I also collected all my karate writings from over the years—most written at times of doubt or of experiencing something new—and put them in a word file. I will read them to see what they are saying. I do feel a need to write more about my journey in karate that I began recording in the last week of the 27 day blog. 

 

The last thing I did was write the names of characters for the temple story—for now it is a short story that I hope at some point might expand into a novel. I made a plot ladder of sorts, sketching very lightly in pencil on a A3 white sheet. It is exciting. I have fewer skills writing short stories than a novel so maybe some reading will be needed when I feel stuck. 

 

There might be something about the two new projects that are exploring something that overlaps internally, but I don’t know. I have always worked on one writing project at a time yet in some ways having more is good. When stuck on one I can dip into the next, till one springs into the foreground and demands to be finished. It is a mix of hope and fear, of hard work and intent without too much pressure, of learning new things and trusting in what I already know about fiction writing.

 

I woke this morning steeped in doubt. These are still uncertain times. Long term plans are impossible. Each day something within wakes wondering what the virus has in store—new variants, new symptoms, new clusters. Writing for an unpublished writer is such an uncertain thing. Who knows if the new work will be worthy of publication. It feels like folly to do something uncertain in this uncertain time. Perhaps doing something safe, concrete, may be a better way to spend time. I’ve used the word uncertain five times in this paragraph. I could change four of them—unpredictable, unknown, hazy, precarious might be good replacements. 

 

My shoulder injury has flared so typing is hard after a while. It was healing and I pushed my luck last week in the gym. I wanted to start the strengthening and used light weights and perhaps aggravated the tears. I don’t know why I do that at times, and later curse myself for messing up my recovery. I called the physio to pre-pone my appointment but they don't have an opening till Wednesday. I’ve fashioned a sling from a scarf to remind me to not use the arm too much. My right hand can write or sketch ‘forever’ though. I need to remember that I cannot force progress on these projects too. 

 

I will report in once a week and see if that helps or hinders the projects. As I write a black and white spider has been wandering at my feet, on the edge of my desk, and now on the curtain behind it. Spider energy is good. I will ask it why has graced my work area today.