It's not for a lack of writing that this blog post has sat empty. There was plenty of writing taking place but it was all being channeled into the manuscript you see in the photo. 313 pages of it in fact.
And once this memoir, which demanded so much exposure, was handed over the counter to the woman at CanadaPost, I hid. It was raining so I crawled into bed and watched videos. Lots of them and one memorable. A French film about a new writer. Perfectly portrayed in her solitude and desperate ambition.
To send your first full length work out into the world for a professional review is exciting and terrifying in equal measure. It demands you to say, "This is good enough." And that takes a type of mastery I could only call on from memory. Its an ability I miss but will find along the way as I continue to engage in this thing called writing.
Being masterful at something takes years. At least 10,000 hours and probably twice that. It takes passion and commitment and a single-minded devotion most people lavish on other people. Or at least dogs. I lavished my devotion on this and now another writer will sit with red pen and read my story and explore my thoughts and let me know if it was indeed, good enough.
No matter the mood when I sit down to write, I inevitably stand up fulfilled and happy. That feeling sings to me of the mastery I miss and guides me towards more drafts and more devotion. To be continued....