I know. I haven’t been here in ages. I apologize for that and thank you for
stopping by.
I wasn’t here
because it hurts too much to try and write.
Even this little bit is painful.
Not physically though my thumbs aren’t moving well today. No, the pain is mental, emotional. You see my publisher, who I trusted enough to
place a dozen books with, ran into some difficulties and closed down. (Or so it seems but that’s for another
day.) I became disheartened. No, that’s not really the right word. It’s more than that. It sucked the writing soul right out of me
and left me so hurt and angry that the characters who live in my head went into
hiding. The ones who used to whisper
blogs to me got so quiet I can no longer hear them. So all you get to today is me, on my own,
trying to string words together that make sense. It’s a new experience for me, writing on my
own. I don’t like it one bit. Part of me is petrified that the writer
lifetime of me is over.
Like the
musician lifetime. When I was a child I
played a string bass. Quite well
actually. I was good enough to be
invited along for an orchestra trip that traveled to a music festival in England. I auditioned for local events and made it all
the way to the state level. I was loaned
out to other schools that didn’t have a bass player and played for their spring
musicals. I even spent several summers
at a high quality music camp. Nope, can’t
play now. Last time I tried it was
bad. Very, very bad.
For part of my
college lifetime I was multi-lingual. I
took German and Spanish in high school.
German, Russian and French in college.
I had a study system where I reviewed things in several languages at one
time, not just whichever class I was preparing for and English. It worked tremendously well. I was good at it. I was happy making it all blend in my
mind. Sadly once I graduated I didn’t
stick with it and most of the things I knew in that lifetime are gone now.
I had a job
stitching original models for the design department in a craft kit
manufacturing company. Back then I did
beautiful needlework. All forms of cross
stitch and needlepoint. I remember one
piece was a line of bears with sweaters that looked knitted. Every morning I would top stitch a new
expression on each of their faces so I could enjoy them as I worked throughout
the day. Even after I transferred into a
different department I continued to stitch.
I drifted away from that years ago.
Recently I came across some things I’d made. They’re beautiful. I wonder if my fingers would remember how to
do that. I’m intimidated to try. I’m afraid it’ll be as much of a disaster as
attempting to be musical was.
These days I’m
knitting. I learned to do that as a
child, taught by my grandmother. I made
a few things and then moved on. Thirty
years later a friend inspired me to try knitting again. I’m happy to say that it came back. You should see the socks I’ve made! And the reversible scarf!
Which takes me
back to writing. I don’t know if knitting
is actually using up my creativity or giving me an outlet to keep my head from
exploding while my characters are in exile.
I’m very restless these days. I
haven’t been able to sit still long enough to knit lately. Upsetting as I’m in the middle of several
projects that I really want to finish. I weave magic into my knitting and I don’t
want it to go wasted. That would not be
cool, trust me.
So there is
change coming. A new lifetime
starting. No, I don’t know what it will
be. I’m not even sure I want to
know. My only hope is that I don’t lose
what I’ve learned in the last ones this time.
Maybe, someday, the universe will give everything back at once. Wouldn’t that be amazing? Can you imagine me able to do all that I ever
could?
