DEF: Of or related to books; pedantic and dull.
It is the former meaning I use here this morning on the eve of a very busy bookish set of events I’ve been anticipating for some time.
As of the end of the work day on Tuesday, I hang up my physical therapist hat. I tuck away my homeowner’s work gloves and my husbandly apron and honey-do list. And I slip into the phone booth at the corner of Goose Creek and Daniels Run and don the tweed jacket with the elbow patches and become BookMan! Able to create alliterations faster than a speeding bullet. Able to leap over-extended metaphors in a single bound. Fred First, disguised as a mild mannered healthcare giver and pet owner, with a bold B emblazoned on his mighty chest and a camera clutching his neck, fights for truthiness, reasonably good punctuation, and the American Way. Whatever that is.
Someone said “I like better to have written then to write.”
Frankly, while I enjoy the role as an author speaking before audiences of readers, I’m really looking forward–after this next blitz of engagements–to get back to the daily rhythm of writing with purpose. I think that will happen, that my focus on what I had started months ago (that might become book #2) will regain momentum in the short days inside with the wood stove. I hope so. I need the thrill of accomplishment on the page, even while I enjoy meeting such wonderful people in person. To find balance…
Regarding the blog, yes, I’ve backed away, writing less often and less passionately or carefully. I go back and read Fragments from that first year, even the second and third, and there was a lot more me in the morning ramble. But then, those were very different times in my life. There were far fewer blogs for readers to chose from, far more intentional readers who came here on purpose, expectantly. Now, the bulk of visits are from google searches not related to my writing realm. And there have been other professional and domestic distractions that have pushed blogging farther down the list of priorities.
Will I get my blog mojo back? I do wonder. Or will I take that energy and pour it into something that will last–something that puts my writing efforts where my mouth and heart are? Can both happen together?
Meanwhile, Slow Road Home is #82 in Amazon books about Outdoors & Nature > Ecology > Mountains. Hey. You have to take comfort where you find it. And if you look, in numbers 83 thru 100 are some pretty fine works!
