celebrate

Saturday, January 1, 2011

I watched the sun lift inch by inch above the sea this morning, and saw as the fog kissed the waves, rolling to shore wrapped in them, an infant swaddled, then gently released on the land as the waves unrolled. It would have felt spooky and mysterious, the way it did two nights ago when it was so dark I got claustrophobic under the open sky. But the sun was there to turn the cloud to glitter and the sensation of a joyous birth reflected off the sparks—it reminded me to celebrate all these perfect days of sensations.

Sunrises and such.

Happy New Year! I have decided to revive an old writing drill to kick start the new year and re connect with my most successful writing routine. For about 6 years at the beginning of the last decade, I made an effort to write every day from about 4:30 A.M. ending at sunrise every day, with a description of the sunrise and an attempt to tie that to something in my subconscious memory. Most of the people who read this blog have been part of this exercise. To keep the practice focused not on astrology but on writing, my "rule" is that I don't post the sunrise on the day I write it, giving myself a day to review and edit.

I wrote one this morning, and spent some time reviewing notes from 2002-2004 when I was contemplating a publishing project called Lake Shore Lit. The project died with my mother, my focus so distorted that I knew it couldn't be successful without concerted effort and concentration that I couldn't sustain. So I let it drop. Then epublishing hit and I see that had I taken on the project, the struggle would have been excessive.

Each time I get involved in something like that, I am reminded that it is the writing that matters, not the game of publication. But without publication, the writing is a silent scream, a masterpiece left in the closet.

It's time to be seen, and heard and read. Come along with me.