Maybe it seems wrong in the face of all that is going on in the wake of Katrina to even think about writing and the writing business but that’s what I am doing, trying to find a path to normalcy because the alternative is nearly too much too bear.
I’ve been silent for a week for a variety of reasons. Busy? Yes. Major overhaul on the office is still going on which in turn puts a major overhaul on the rest of the house. Day-job? Sure. After a 6-day weekend my workload is a tad overwhelming at the moment. I’ve also been working on publicity for my picture book coming out next month (Oliver’s Must-Do List) and will probably spend a lot of time across the long weekend working on that sort of thing.
But mostly it has been a thinking time. I’m thinking a lot about my new book project which has a lot, well, icky stuff going on in it. Bad stuff happening to a good kid. I’m doing some writing but mostly jotting down thoughts and thinking about plot and structure and having to research things a bit. But the icky stuff has to come first. It’s the day that is different. It sets the story in motion. And I don’t want to write it. Instead I clean house and putz and play with the dog.
And, this week, I watch TV for news of Katrina’s devastation, most especially to the city of New Orleans, a place I once lived but never called home.
New Orleans was never a part of my master plan. I landed there due to a series of poor choices on my part. Looking back, remembering, reliving the pain of those three years in New Orleans is not pretty. It’s not something I want to do, especially right now, but every news report triggers a memory. Every photograph I see online is replaced with an image in my mind of my time in the Big Easy (which was anything but.) As a result, many emotions I have been trying not to feel about a time I want to forget from a place that is unforgettable, are pouring out of me. I am writing it all down, letting myself remember everything about New Orleans, the good and the bad, though it is much too long to post here.
I hope there is a catharsis at the end of it all. One never knows when you cut yourself open on purpose, if the bleeding will ever stop or if it will just keep on flowing and become something else you just learn to live with.
Susan, I love your new picture. Darling 🙂
Yes, write. It is theraputic for all this stuff.
Re: Picture Plus
Thanks Meg. I love playing with the pictures and will probably end up paying to upload even more because 15 just isn’t enough for all my moods.
And yes, the writing helps, even when it hurts.
I think it’s harder to lose a person or place you had a troubled relationship with than one you had a good relationship with. The emotions are messier and harder and less clean.
Glad you’re able to write about it.
Thanks, Janni. Yes, those darn emotions just keep everything right there on the surface. I hope I can funnel the emotions into Frankie and his story. That’s the plan anyway.
Are you an illustrator also? Or a writer who has written or writes “picture books”?
Now, I’m damn curious about this “icky” book….
It’s got be weird for those who have lived or visited New Orleans to watch it all… (I’ve done neither)….
Certainly not as awful as being there, but still….
Re: from slatts
I wish I could draw but no, I’m an author who draws only stick figures and am dependent on illustrators like you to bring my words to life. Check out the more about me for stuff about my books.
I have written picture books, am writing picture books(shush…don’t tell my agent because I promised only novels for a time) and adore picture books.
Thanks. I like hugs and think we should pass them around as often as possible.
I visited New Orleans a few years ago and had a rotten time, I was not impressed. It stank, it was dirty, people were peeing on the sidewalks as I sat in a cafe eating those overrated litte donut things(I forget the name)
I am sorry however about the tremendous life lost and the misplaced people.
Beignets. I hear the famous Cafe du Monde has survived. New Orleans has a dark side. I saw more of it than I wanted to.
But yes. Immense sadness.