I confess, I’m not a good person to have as your driver on vacation. Yes, I’m safe, aware, and involved, but I’m also goal oriented. I’m driving for that destination. Stop to look at the view? That’ll slow us down. Eat? What? You have to pee? Are you kidding me?
Yes, once I put a goal into place, it’s hard to abandon. It’s true with my driving and my writing. What is a strength is also a problem.
I’m debating about a sixth book in the Incomplete States series. (The working title, The Final Time, came to me as soon as part of the brainstorm that inundated me last night.) It’s a logical decision to me, as though I’m in control of the whole thing. Yes, and no, of course.
First, I acknowledge, I’m a little sick of working on the series, sick in the sense that I need a time-out. Sick, as in the sense that I was eager to work on something different. I have a goal in mind, and I’m almost there. I don’t want to turn away from that goal. I see and understand that about myself.
I thought that maybe I could compromise with myself and my muses. I will write some on the side, maybe, maybe not, we’ll see (he said, hedging his commitment), and continue editing full-time. Yes, that sounds like a good compromise.
Yes, I’m pretty stupid at times, thinking that it’s all about logic, control, and goals.
That’s not it at all.
I forgot that I write for myself. I write for myself in the sense that I am my number one fan, and my number one reader. I write for myself because I want to know what I think. I want to know the story. To now think of the story and try to apply the brakes is ridiculous. I want to explore it; I want to know.
That means I must write it.
That might all fizzle out, of course. Perhaps as I begin exploring it, the story will peter out. I’ll conclude, there’s not anything more to write and learn here. I might write some and realize, well, this is really just part of the last book.
I don’t know. It’s foolish to waste time contemplating what might happen or whether I have a decision to make. I’m a writer, and must write, and then I’ll decide what to do with it.
My coffee is at hand. Time to write and edit like crazy, at least one more time.
Floofigans (floofinition) – a noisy young housepet who causes trouble.
In use: “A loud crash in the kitchen brought a sigh to Keri’s lips and the question that she’d been asking a lot since acquiring the young cat, “What are you doing now, you little floofigan?” A moment later, said floofigan trotted out of the kitchen, graced her with a wide-eyed look, issued an adamant meow of denial, put its tail up and ran to her. Exasperated as she was, she had to smile as the feline leaped onto her lap, kneaded her thigh, and purred.”
Geez, why didn’t someone tell me? I’d probably have a lot more hair if I hadn’t started writing novels.
Today’s song emerges from the country-rock genre (crock?) and the mists of 1973. 1973 was a good year and a bad year, a memorable year and a forgettable year, a year of tests and trials and learning, and a year of growing, wondering, coping with hormones, and passing days doin’ nothin’. I was seventeen for ’bout half of the year, and sixteen for the other half.
“Amie”, by Pure Prairie League, is a light melody with folkish overtones. The lyrics are easy to hear, learn, and remember. It’s a good song to sing to your floofs, should you feel a need to sing to them.
As always, the lyrics catch me. When hearing the song, you might think, this is about the singer trying to woe Amie. It’s not. This is about the man’s ambivalence about his relationship with Amie, and her decision to move on. Meanwhile, he laments that she’s taking so long to decide. The decision’s been made, dude.
Don’t you think the time is right for us to find
All the things we thought weren’t proper could be right in time?
And can you see which way we should turn, together or alone?
I can never see what’s right or what is wrong
Oh, you take too long
Most telling is at the end, as he sings, “I keep falling in and out of love with you.” Amie knows this, and she’s tired of it. That’s why he’s asking, “Aime, what you wanna do?” He’s in full denial and full of hope.
She is not.
NOTE: This analysis is my own. As with anything I say or write, it could be complete bullshit. Just think of it as Schrödinger’s bullshit.