REVELATIONS


......So anyway, here I am, sixteen days into the New Year and the energy is moving so well. Good to come back to my blog for a minute. Always good to come home to myself, to think my thoughts in quiet space, to examine what I've learned, where I'm going, where I've come from.

And so the news of the day for anyone who doesn't already know is that the book is done.

As in finished.

As in completed.

As in ..... there ain't no more

Twenty six poems and three short stories ..... indeed more than I initially planned but in honest it is a reflection of who I am, who I once was, who I am becoming. It is the reflection of what I've learned about both my craft and myself over these past two decades. Indeed, a reflection.

Where I initially cringed at the idea that the children would be home all day long for two weeks over the Christmas/Kwanzaa Holiday, it only took a day to settle in and accept the natural flow of my life, to not fight against it, to see what I could do and what I couldn't. The best part of my life as a writer is that I don't just write poems and I don't just write novels --- I am literally all over the place in my thoughts and I allow them to be birthed in the manner they choose. So if my thoughts want to express themselves as poems, good. If what I need to say is best said in an essay, fine. I'm open. And so I decided that rather than try to be creative amidst all that busy-ness and going and coming and lighting of kinaras and explaining zawadi --- I would simply complete those activities that required minimal effort. Alas, there is always editing to do. With red pen in hand I took to my poems. I lay them out upon the floor, spread inches apart, examining the order in which I want them to appear. I took to my stories, settled in with them and searched for their hearts. I wrote my Introduction, collected the Preface from my mentor/friend, received the blurbs for the back. I carried this project with my to bed, to the store, in the car --- wherever I went. And after much sincere and honest analysis, I found my way.
All that remains now, is the final cover from the graphics folks. Not 100% satisfied with the original cover, I asked for a re-do and so now I wait. Patiently. Quietly. Thankfully.
Hopefully we'll be on the shelves by Spring. As the Creator wills it to be, so it will be. I'm open and just so thankful to have a body of work -- collected body of work -- to give to my children; a reflection of my deepest thoughts, musings, frustrations, hopes for them and for myself.

Where I had thought at the beginning of this writing/motherhood journey that the two would be horribly incongrous I am seeing more and more that it is all ONE path, roles complimenting each other. When I am with the children, when they demand my creative self, there is other work to be done and hence, progress. When they are away at school I can climb back into my solitude and find those words I need, those images and metaphors. And I find that they are more easily found when I have had the chance to play, be silly, goof off so to speak.

The other thing I've noticed is that I am a very different person when I'm working on poems. Over the holiday I read my poetry on the radio up in Philly and then at a gathering at an artist's home nearby. It was a gathering of artists, poets, musicians, etc. I was also reading at the coffee shop too. I felt so alive, so passionate, so.......out there. I found myself thinking poetically (if that makes any sense at all) with a sincere desire to immerse myself in the city, amongst the poets and the people. I wanted to listen to issues and discuss them, hold them under the scope and examine them. I wanted to evaluate, talk, debate, listen .... then come back to my page and write a poem about it. But now, as the book is done (really it is, there is not one more word I can muscle into this work) I turn my attention back to my novel and I settle into my other Self: the novelist.

As the novelist, I need silence. I need to talk less and certainly do not want to debate any matters. I want to be alone and I don't want to hear anyone's troubles. If I run into someone I know, I will not say, "How are you?" not because I don't care but simply because it is usually an invitation to which people too readily accept. I find myself clenching my teeth, distracted, as the person moans and groans about something changeable in there life that they are unwilling to change. After all, we all have choices don't we? I can only think of my novel and all of the imagery and metaphor I am sure will escape once I get home. My mind will be too filled with the dung of someone else's life. As the novelist, I discovered that my work is at it's best when I crawl back into my hole; whereas my poems demand I be out, about and amidst.

Isn't that odd?

But true. I cannot write on the days that I work. The slate is bare. But when I am home, after the children are off to school and I can stand in front of the sink and lower my hands into the dishwater and look out the window as I swirl my sponge in and out of their empty oatmeal bowls, I hear the words. They come. They arrive beautifully, needing little, if any, revision. Just me and the dishwater and the swaying of the trees out back; the sun casting long bands of light across the floor, the ducks heading south, the crows searching the grass for worms after a cool, light rain. It's a beautiful time. Being alone with one's thoughts is a prayer.

And so, knowing what I need, I let those I love know that I will not be available during certain hours. Goal of all goals is to finish the novel before the turn of 2005. We shall see. As the Creator wills it to be, so it will be.

Anyhow, if you haven't already picked it up, do skip over to Amazon and consider buying The Creative Habit by choreographer Twyla Tharp. It's a great read, applicable to all artists. Not your, "how to write a damn good novel" type of book, but an examination of the habits of creative people, particularly those who carve out successful careers. Of course, I heard about it on my favorite NPR segment, The Tavis Smiley show. Tonight is poetry and work was last night. Time to give my brain a rest. Will post some of the poems on my sample page soon.

Be Good. More when time permits,

ANGEL