Do real writers stop writing for Thanksgiving? Do they write in the margins of their lives, stopping between stuffing the turkey and making the pies, scribbling on paper towels? Or do they do what I do, yearn for quiet, a desk and a comfortable chair while simultaneously being grateful for the presence of people and the bountiful feast.
Last week my husband and I landed in Albuquerque for Thanksgiving with my mother and family. Lugging my computer and assignments, I fully expected to write. While at the airport, I posted to both of my blogs and I figured I'd work on my book and a couple of articles in the late night or wee morning. Hah! My mother was hospitalized the day after Thanksgiving. In the end it all worked out well for my mother but my writing took a back seat.I wondered how Susan Sontag wrote about her cancer; her son wrote about her dying process; May Sarton wrote about her stroke and Jill Bolte Taylor wrote about her cerebral hemmorhage. Did they keep diaries or do they have better memories than I do?
Nora Roberts wrote, "It is easier to fix a bad page than a blank one." Oh to have a bad page to fix...
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment