Writer’s Wednesday: Moving + Toddlers +Editing a short story = Pipe Dream



An Excerpt from a conversation with my muse:


Me: Hey.

Muse: Hey.

Me, looking down, sheepish: Want to work on that short story that we wrote a few weeks ago? Members of the group are waiting for the rework.

Muse, hands on her hips: Are you fucking high? Aren’t you moving on Saturday? Aren’t there only a million items on your task list?

Me, abashed, still not making eye contact: Yes…But I thought that we could steal away a little bit of time….you know, to stay sane?

Muse, not impressed, stepping forward menacingly: Girl, I can hear your boys in the nursery not sleeping right this second. How much time did you really think you were going to steal?

Me, looking up with doe eyes: 30 minutes, maybe?

Muse: [maniacal laughter] You really are high!

Me: [Turns and walks away, defeated]


I am moving on Saturday and I can tell you, my apartment is in shambles. It is very difficult to think under these circumstances, let alone create. And when I’m doing doing the packing on this side, I have to do all of the unpacking on that side. So, you know, my life is awesome.

So don’t expect to hear from me. I’ll check in on Monday or so to let you know that I’m alive. But at the moment, I’m going on a bit of hiatus so as to lighten this stressful load.

I’m sorry to disappoint, but I promise that I’ll write on the other side of this!

There are so many things that I should be doing, but I’m french kissing Helios instead…


Spring is a creature that wants to be wanted. She doesn’t always know how much we love and appreciate her, especially because Winter is so much larger, older, and more powerful than she is.

So when he finally uses up all of his energy, when his tendrils recede back to places far from here, Spring sometimes still takes a long time emerging from her hiding. She wonders if we will miss the snow, and the ice, and the cozy fires and the heavy slow-cooked meals.

And people like me have to get outside and declare our love for her. Because everyone needs reassurance that they are loved, appreciated, and missed when they aren’t there.

So I had maintenance come by this morning and put the screen in my balcony door. It was 40 degrees out this morning, but I had him do it anyway.

And I am blogging outside on my balcony, allowing the sun to warm me, allowing my skin to absorb all of the vitamin D that he has to offer.

And I took the time to notice the crane who flew by my window and decided to stay for a few wonderful moments. My sons didn’t understand why I halted the well oiled breakfast machine to stare out my window and gape like a fool. But I did, because Spring needs that. Spring needs to know that we will stop and notice her, that her gifts, fleeting and yet hauntingly beautiful, don’t go unnoticed.

When I came outside to start blogging, I was wearing a T shirt and a skirt, but they have long been exchanged for the camisole (the skirt does, indeed, remain). It is probably some 55 degrees out here. But to a New Englander like me (……I type that with a heavy heart. I was a life-long Marylander, and I’ve now survived my 7th Massachusetts winter…) , 55 degrees might as well be 90. I totally get it now, why some people end up walking outside in shorts when it’s 40 degrees out.

Because anything is warmer than what we just lived through.

Because everything is warmer than what we just lived through.

And so we reward Spring with a look at our pale skin, begging her to color us alongside the trees and the grass and the flowers. Everything needs color after the long, slow pale of winter.

And–though naturally colored I may be–I, too, require some shading. And I gladly take it. Instead of writing, which is what I really should be doing.

But tomorrow is Short Story Saturday, and it will be fueled by some extra Vitamin D. Because every writer–good, bad and in between–should take the time to power up.

So happy “power up” time to each of you. And happy writing there after.