Met britzkrieg and her s.o., Jaime, for dinner at a little Indian restaurant that’s just a hop, skip, and scamper away from us. Greatly enjoyed our discussion and hope to repeat the experience again soon.
But while we were sitting at the table gabbing, post food, Thomas, my yoga instructor came over to say hello as he was coincidentally also there for dinner. It’s strange having different spheres of my world overlap. For a second when he appeared at our table, it didn’t register who he was because I wasn’t expecting him out of the yoga studio. Introductions around were conducted, which was weird too. Matthew and I do nearly everything together, and so we tend to meet and socially interact with people as a couple. It was odd introducing a person who I’ve interacted a lot with to Matthew who hadn’t ever set eyes upon him before. That just doesn’t happen very often.
I was also horribly wracked by guilt as I’ve blown off the last two yoga classes. But Thomas elicited a promise from me that I would be back to class next Monday, and jauntily strolled off to have his meal.
The season of yellow pollen hath begun. There’s nothing like this back in Illinois. For people unfamiliar with this phenomenon, for a month or so in Georgia (does it happen elsewhere in the South?) the whole landscape is coated by a dusting of this yellow powder. Fortunately, I don’t appear to be allergic to it, but it’s still a physical irritation. I tend to have problems with my eyes, being unable to wear my rigid contact lenses and having to switch to soft (which I can’t see as well with). And yellow isn’t my favorite color.
Got my issue of Speculations the other day and read the Bruce Holland Rogers and Holly Arrow article with some interest. It was on writerly engage v flow where “engage” is more the work of writing, forcing yourself to pound out the pages, hammering out sentence after sentence with focused intent, and “flow” is that transcendental state where the words pour out and you are but the vessel that captures them with your fingers flying over the keyboard. They speculated that whether one is primarily a flow or an engage writer is based upon many things, including one’s personality proclivities. The psychology of writing. Oooo.
Anyway, they went on to say that most writers experience both engage and flow, although to differing degrees. Personally, I think I tend to start out writing engaged, and if I get into whatever zone my muse hovers in, I enter flow and hours can fly by as I rack up the word count. But if I can’t hit that flow zone for whatever reason, then I flounder in engage mode, forcing sentences out by sheer willpower. I think the quality of my work is fairly similar, whatever mode I’m in, but one way is easy, and the other is grueling. Wish I had a flow pill I could take that would take me to that state of consciousness where the words just come when I want them to.
Anyway, I couldn’t hit either engage or flow the other day, so instead I did ten critiques on Critters as I’m out of MPCs. That’s sort of like being productive. But I started reading through the novella to get back into the groove, and I couldn’t stand it. So I put it aside. I’ve got another story outlined and ready to go, but I couldn’t bring myself to start on that as it’s going to be a fairly challenging undertaking. What I want to write is another fairy/folk tale.
I think 2003 is going to be the year of the very short story. It’s all about the flash-length piece, and juvenile fiction-length works. There’s this instant gratification of being able to complete something in one or two sittings that’s so very seductive.