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Life Wants a Narrative
Mar. 30th, 2014 03:27 pm3/30/2014, Sunday, 15 minutes during afternoon naptime
I don't have much time to sit at the computer and type during my day-to-day life right now. Comes of having a two-year-old and a--four-month-old? How has it been that long since Theia was born (and when was that next doctor's appointment supposed to be?)? The time that I do have has recently been swallowed mostly by bills and taxes and the other things one has to do at the computer. If I'm lucky, there is a little time left over at the end for a sentence or two of writing fiction. My life feels unbalanced right now because of my lack of fiction-writing time. So why am I sitting here writing a blog entry during a little of that precious time?
I have kept a diary since I was very small. There is something about the marking of the days of one's life that helps with perspective, and with accepting that yes, there are accomplishments, and yes, one is making progress over time. At a certain point, I went to Livejournal, and that was wonderful, since many of my friends did too, and so I could read about their lives and really feel like I was seeing a slice of their life. And then most people left LJ, myself mostly included, and went to sporadic little updates and links on Facebook or G+ or Twitter. And really it is not the same as journaling. And does not help at all when it comes to trying to write an annual Christmas letter or pull together a scrapbook or what have you.
This post has become more about the medium than I intended it to be. I do not know if I will stick with LJ or make a stand-alone blog of some sort. I do not know if I will someday/maybe create a more writerly blog, as some conventional wisdom claims one ought to do, nor do I know what form that would take. Talking about writery things, you see, is often only of interest to other writers.
Fifteen minutes on Sundays. I can do that. I am a writer; I am easier in my skin when I feel that my life is constructing a narrative.
This week, I will say that I am currently quite sick, though I think I have started to recover. I am not feeling quite so lightheaded and stricken with feverish hot flashes, although I am still quite congested. I also have a bad case of cabin fever, since the week before I got sick, Phil was sick, so I could not leave the house then either.
I don't have much time to sit at the computer and type during my day-to-day life right now. Comes of having a two-year-old and a--four-month-old? How has it been that long since Theia was born (and when was that next doctor's appointment supposed to be?)? The time that I do have has recently been swallowed mostly by bills and taxes and the other things one has to do at the computer. If I'm lucky, there is a little time left over at the end for a sentence or two of writing fiction. My life feels unbalanced right now because of my lack of fiction-writing time. So why am I sitting here writing a blog entry during a little of that precious time?
I have kept a diary since I was very small. There is something about the marking of the days of one's life that helps with perspective, and with accepting that yes, there are accomplishments, and yes, one is making progress over time. At a certain point, I went to Livejournal, and that was wonderful, since many of my friends did too, and so I could read about their lives and really feel like I was seeing a slice of their life. And then most people left LJ, myself mostly included, and went to sporadic little updates and links on Facebook or G+ or Twitter. And really it is not the same as journaling. And does not help at all when it comes to trying to write an annual Christmas letter or pull together a scrapbook or what have you.
This post has become more about the medium than I intended it to be. I do not know if I will stick with LJ or make a stand-alone blog of some sort. I do not know if I will someday/maybe create a more writerly blog, as some conventional wisdom claims one ought to do, nor do I know what form that would take. Talking about writery things, you see, is often only of interest to other writers.
Fifteen minutes on Sundays. I can do that. I am a writer; I am easier in my skin when I feel that my life is constructing a narrative.
This week, I will say that I am currently quite sick, though I think I have started to recover. I am not feeling quite so lightheaded and stricken with feverish hot flashes, although I am still quite congested. I also have a bad case of cabin fever, since the week before I got sick, Phil was sick, so I could not leave the house then either.