Today was a good writing day. Not just productive (although I revised three long chapters), but energizing. The kind of day where I tore myself away from my computer at the appointed hour to make the school run and bounced as I walked to the car. It’s true, writing can give you an endorphin rush that’s right up there with sex and football. Yes, I just wrote that in public (sorry, Mom!).
As my best friend can attest, I’m the kind of person who believes I was plucked from a John Hughes movie and therefore I live a lot of my life with various theme songs playing. Of course, instead of doing something dramatic like standing outside my true love’s window blasting “In Your Eyes” (I’ve done that. He wasn’t my true love though. I digress…), I’m most often doing mundane things like driving to school. And besides, my fellow PTO moms just don’t seem to appreciate it when I squeal into my parking space with the top down (OK, just the windows down since I drive a Golf and not my dream car–a Mini convertible) blasting Sabotage…
So today, when I bounced to the car like an Energizer Bunny on meth, I cranked the music up before I even knew what my iPod would serve up. And I’m not even joking, Deee-Lite blared out, full blast:
There may have been some crazy car-dancing going on. And in case you’re wondering, that’s not really a Finnish thing (as if I don’t always stick out like a loud-mouthed, curly-haired freaky sore thumb enough around here already).
People far more eloquent than I am have written about the manic ups and horrible downs of the creative life, so I won’t. But I will say that every day is not Deee-Lite around here. I have plenty that are like this:
I’m just happy to report that today was not that day. I can’t make any promises about tomorrow. But today, I’m basking in it. And then I get home from the school run, and I find a keynote address for WriteOnCon, the online writer’s conference I’m participating in this week. It’s from Peter Knapp from The Park Literary Group, a fabulous agent I encountered at the Midwest Writers Workshop this summer. In it, he shares an inspiring anecdote for anyone who has ever experienced a moment of doubt. And come on, that’s everyone, not just us creative types. It’s beautiful. So read it, flick your Bic (am I dating myself here?), then dance with me:
And yes, I realize I’m posting more musings and unapologetic navel-gazing. It’s intentional. Writing personal memoir (and humor) takes practice. I’m just doing my practicing out loud, so to speak.