writing – Page 205 – Michael Seidel, writer

If this is Thursday, then this must be Ashland.

I chuckled at lines like that. During several times in life, I traveled a lot. First in a military life, then in a marketing life. When I traveled like that, my focus narrowed. What country-city-base-trade show am I at? What’s the agenda? Who am I meeting? Where do I go next? The actual dates little mattered, except for the travel portion. But I didn’t think of that in terms of days or dates. It was more, “I leave tomorrow” or the day after, etc, and “I go home next week.”

Anyway, this is Thursday, July 29, 2021. My wife had her teeth cleaned yesterday. She made her next cleaning appointment: 2/2/2022, at 2 PM. Yeah, it’s not a Fibonacci sequence, but it is interesting. To us, at least. Hey, it’s been slow.

Sun shine invaded at 6:01 AM. A retreat is in order commencing at 5:33 AM. Another heat dome has arrived. Although heat advisories are in effect, I thought we might be spared the heat. Clouds covered most of the AM sky. But they’ve slowly slip-slided away, leaving a hazy blue dome overhead. Like yesterday, temperatures close to 100 are anticipated. Yesterday, we clipped 98 F at our house.

“Ventura Highway” by America (1972) invaded my morning head space. Two parts of the song were speaking to me: “alligator lizards in the air” and “Come on, Joe, you can always change your name. Thanks a lot, son, just the same.”

The alligator lizards part was easy. I was looking at the morning clouds. We had scanty popcorn pieces. No alligator lizards. But it still triggered the music. The other aspect was about character names in the novel in progress. I thought that perhaps I should change two characters names. They’re not exactly the same names as friends, but close enough. They are parodies of these friends. But the name is an integral part to them. Changing their names changes my impression of them. The names stay as they are for now.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Cheers

Well, haven’t been writing. Not on paper. Or computer. Have been writing in my head.

My wife wanted (needed, she claims) a vacation. COVID-19, you know. Sheltering with me, you know. And the cats. She thought she was going a little crazy.

Her sister called. Hey, she and her boyfriend were coming west. His children (and his children’s children) live on the west coast. He hadn’t seen them for almost two years except on Zoom. So. Would we like to meet up in Seattle? The boyfriend’s son lives in Kent and the boyfriend lived in Seattle for years before retiring from Boeing. He can show us around.

Difficult for me. And yes, selfishly, I was thinking of me. I’m already a frustrated writer. Now I was being asked to travel and surrender more time. More energy. I’m quite jealous of my writing time, by choice. See, I wanted to pursue writing for a looonng time. But I was in the military. Traveling, writing on the side. My wife wanted me to stay in, get my pension. Smart financially. Good security. So I sucked it up and stayed in.

I was 39 when I retired from the military. The plan was that we would now move to somewhere where we could survive on my pension and write. But, she then got a job in advertising that she liked. Could we please stay there, in the SF Bay Area?

I was employed by startups, then was acquired by corporations. Made very good money along the way doing jobs that weren’t too hard. It all meant deferring my writing dream. I ended up staying with IBM for fifteen years after they acquired one of the companies I was at. Yes, good money but soul-sucking employment. No fun for me, for the most part. Some challenges but mostly tedium.

So, this is my state of mind. I am now sixty-five. I’ve been writing and reading, improving my writing and story-telling skills (or hope so, you know?), trying to get to know my muses and discover my voice. It’s a challenge. I love that challenge. COVID-19 was a serious interruption. Just as I felt that I was finally making substantial strides forward.

Writing the current novel-in-progress took me through the end of 2020 and into the start of 2021. I then discovered that I was trying to tell the story in the wrong way. So, recalibrated. Took all that previously written stuff as background work. And kept going, now on the right path.

It’s exciting. Then, vacation. Preparation for vacation. I’m not social. The vacation meant committing to being social. Delaying my writing efforts for another week. But what’s another week, right? Sure. Rationally, I reply, it’s just seven days or so. With writer’s angst, I tell you, it’s a painful and frustrating interruption. An unwanted interruption. The conversation with the muses was going well. I was having a good time. Who likes to stop a good time?

But I try to be a good husband and some kind of contributing member of society. So, the time was taken. The vacation done. Good for me? Sure. Aren’t I nice? You betcha.

Back in the writing seat today. Picking up those story strings that emerged as I was on a ship in Seattle, walking a street, driving the Interstate, observing a person, sipping coffee, gazing at a street scene, etc. You never know when they’ll come.

Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

Again.