Friday, October 12, 2012

sit your ass down and write season

   The rain has arrived. Like a reverse groundhog's proclamation, the serious pile up of storms on the Doppler radar has announced six more months of the same.

Not that I'm bitching.

In the 23 years I've lived in Portland, I can't remember such a fantastic lingering sun spell. No rain since the beginning of July. Tomatoes that rival New Jersey August-grown ones. Umbrellas clenched like fists. Car windows left open all night (shit, that reminds me...). Enough, already.

Fitting that weather would change with the onset of Wordstock. Rain is writing weather, after all. Gone is the stray, "let's go bang a couple balls around the court" notion. It's curl up in front of the fire with a stack of books. With your notes. With your big, big ideas for the next book.

It's here. Yes it is. Whatcha gonna write?


  1. how great is that photo?!

    it's supposed to be a sunny 80 degrees here today. we have fall festivals going on and it's my son's birthday. "You're 4 now," said his dad this morning, "You know what that means? No crying when you want something. Just asked for it. And no more pulling your penis out, especially at school. okay? 4 year olds don't do that."

    i'm going to make some coffee and then begin a post i've been carrying around in my head for 21 years now. it's time. even if all the people i'm about to write about are going to be at my house tonight for my son's birthday.

    1. Once you can no longer pull out your penis in public you become an editor. Sigh. Growing up is so hard. With all three kids, every time they went through another magic door to grownupland, a little piece of me died. Even now, with my youngest (the 13 yr old), I live for his occasional lapses into unselfconscious boy -- because most of the time he walks around like a camera is on him and all his peers are watching.

      It takes a lifetime to get back to that penis-pulling self. Can't wait to see what you write, Josie.

  2. Following your lead, Suzy, I'm taking an at-home writing retreat this week. My husband is leaving town. It will be just me and the dogs. I'm going to forget the laundry, the errands, the minutiae ---- and spend this time curled up with my manuscript.

    I'm looking forward to it. I'm dreading it. Know what I mean??

    P.S. And I promise to keep my penis to myself, at least for this one week.

    1. I'll picture you in front of a crackling fire, beside a stack of books and snuggled up with your pages and pen. Bliss.

  3. I couldn't agree more, Suzy. Time to hunker down and dig in. I always look forward to fall and winter as time for intense a cozy sweater and with a mug of hot tea warming my hands, of course.


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