It’s probably true that I haven’t done much ‘journaling’ here for some time. I’m not sure– I would have to go back and see what I’ve posted in the past months to make a determination about that, but I feel things have been a bit full out which leaves little margins for reflection here.
Autumn is my season for reflection. It stirs me deeply. Unlike Spring that just spins me around by the tail and tosses me to land in the bushes, dizzy and unsteady on my feet, September, October and November ground me; they root me.
Memories will pop out of nowhere fully formed, replete with the oddest of details like the plaid cotton jumper I wore on the first day of kindergarten with its culotte skirt and gold metal rings at the waist.
New images of things I want to experience or create will catch me just as I am doing the most ordinary thing like turning a corner or closing the door tightly behind me and I am shocked by their presence. Where did they come from? Do they really expect me to follow them? Won’t this totally change everything?
That’s how Autumn is for me. First, I remember who I am. Second, my direction will change without warning. I wrench the steering wheel and follow the glimpse of dirt road, bumping, jolting, bracing for the impact of having made a terrible mistake.
The last week I have not been able to write daily on the novel– hell, I didn’t even get to peek into one Squam class– not one. It was that busy this time around. My plan is to get what must be done tomorrow and then, shut off all the electronics– computer, phone etc and burrow into the weekend to make some headway. Last time I checked I was at about 325 typed pages. I’m thinking another 45-60 to go and I may just squeak under the wire to have the first draft done by November 1 as I set out to do on 11/1/11.
ha, but you know, no pressure–