You might believe it if you didn’t like the book.
Or if you did like it, but you’ve written one yourself, you might understand completely.
Or if you pay attention to the mysterious ways of God. If so, you weren’t surprised at the words Ariel brought us from Neil Gaiman. Perhaps, like me, it comforted you to remember how often you’d reached for the words, and found them there waiting.
Ariel asked what our droughts looked like. Mine has been, for several years, a drought of words, brought on, at least in part, by the economic dryness we’ve all experienced. The other ladies on this blog have suffered worse than I have, and by their friendship and example, have kept me from despair. They have been Jane to me, the ones who showed me how to dance.
Lately, I’ve sensed a turning, a small, first pirouette (it starts inside, where it doesn’t yet surprise the neighbors). It feels like a strange kind of joy, like a last kiss to the world we’ve lost, and a desire to assert myself into the new one, to explore it for possibilities.
The turn manifested first in a desire to make a few changes of my own. I woke one morning resolved that all the wallpaper had to go. We’re still painting.
And for the next step – a sashay left? – I got myself a real, get-up-and-go-to-work job, and one I think I’ll love. It’s at a local non-profit that will allow free reign for all my flower-girl impulses toward service and community.
Then, just to buck the obvious assumption that I will now spend even less time writing, I’ve already begun a new regimen of getting up at dark-thirty, and going to the keyboard. I’m pleased to say it’s going well.
But in the commencement speech, Gaiman had something to say about this new, strange world that made me pirouette again:
The rules, the assumptions, the now-we’re-supposed-to’s of how you get your work seen, and what you do then, they’re breaking down. The gatekeepers are leaving their gates. You can be as creative as you need to be, to get your work seen. YouTube ande the web and whatever comes after YouTube and the web can give you more people watching than old television ever did. The old rules are crumbling, and nobody knows what the new rules are. So make up your own rules.
Look at that. It only takes a little turn for the end to look like the beginning.
I'm proud of these ladies - of Sharon and her new novel, "Unraveled;" of Latayne and her courage and persistence; of Bonnie, forging her new paths in fiction; of Patti, diving into the creative process in brave new ways; of Debbie for proving that great stories can be written in small bits of time - and of you - for striking out like Abraham for a promised land you haven't seen.
Have you made a pirouette lately? Do tell. We’d love to read what you have to say.
I’d better go make that spaghetti.