Well it has been awhile, hasn’t it? The weather went from crappy to real crappy. I went on vacation and spent many happy days in the sun. Then surprise! Snow on the ground ever since we’ve been back.
Life has gotten so good. Book comes out in two months, a new house in one. (Finally, I’m a homeowner! I feel grown up now. Well, a little anyway…) Possibilities await on the horizon. Endless as they are in all of our lives. They hover above us as we unknowingly dream thinking they are far off. Not so… at least that’s what I’m learning to believe.
I have been pulled in different directions lately and have become good at focusing. It doesn’t mean I don’t get stressed out but I do believe I’m learning how to manage it better. Meditation helps a lot. Writing is always the consistent element, meditation is new. I’ve also rediscovered Coltrane and Billie Holiday. Ever since I wrote the rough draft of my first book, they managed to get stuffed in the back wall of my CDs and have been a wonderful reunion for me. I’m listening to Ms. Holiday right now. She was at the height of her career, on tour in Europe and boy can she sing like no other.
Sometimes I wish I could tour the 20th Century. Spend a little time in each decade the hit fast forward once I’d had enough. I might start in the twenties, why not, they were roaring. You know, spend enough time to entrench in the music and historical events of the day. Then when the good music fizzled or hardship came, hit forward like I was a CD spinning along.
So here it comes, I am nervous about the next 6 or so months. as I always am around a book launch. There is extra effort required. Mentally, I am excited and over the moon that it’s here, it’s finally here. Secretly, though, as soon as it’s out, I’m deciding what my next project is. I have manila folders stuffed with notes and beginnings of about I don’t know maybe 8 or 9 books. It’s a matter of what I want to write next.
I think I should write this, I want to write that, am I good enough to write fiction and will anyone offer me a contract for my fiction? I know my niche is non-fiction but there is fiction in me. Sure, I’ll disguise it and it will be packaged as non-fiction if that makes everyone more comfortable. Or I could use my real life experience and shoot for the moon with my first novel. I always like a challenge.
Off I go. It’s tax time. I’m so distracted until I get them done that I may as well file now. It’s the expenses. I can’t just add up my receipts. God no. I need to create a spreadsheet and morph in to a perfectionist. When, I’d like to know, did I bloom into a nightmare perfectionist? And if this is genetic, who in the heck did I inherit this from? That one is baffling and could take my whole life to figure out.
Back to Billie and her guitarist who has me moving right along with his solo. They don’t make this kind of jazz anymore.