Wordless Wednesday: Can I Kiss You Before I Go to the JCC?

This is what my precious little Ivry said to me this morning just before he left for the Jewish Community Center where he attends daycare. I love you was all I could say!

On a different note, I spoke to my editor yesterday afternoon. We talked for about an hour. He praised the contents of the book suggesting that I could clearly benefit from the writing with a co-author. An hour later I called my reviewer and asked if she would be interested in doing the project with me. She gave an affirmative 'yes'. We'll, see how that goes!

I'm Overwhelmed... Just Breathe!

I decided today I am a human being. No excuses. No misfits. I am not going to write a laborious post, if I can't help it. But it almost always seems to go back to the writing.

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I am seriously overwhelmed. Seriously and big time.

This book is making me nuts.

There is so much research involved.

Everything takes one step at a time.

It is such a slow slow process.

I need more than a year to write it.

How am I ever going to finish??????????

Taking it "Bird by Bird"

In my former post I wrote about Anne Lamot and taking it "bird by bird."





I move slowly - try one little baby step on a time. Literally. Often I spend time mulling over words, sentences, thoughts. The library's a good place for that kind of introverted sort of research. It's a puzzling mystery, how words ever make it to the paper. They prefer to keep to their own microcosmic universe until I decide to let them free. Only lately, this hasn't been happening.





I can't believe I've taken a full year of sabbatical just to prove to myself that I can write a book: it sounds rather important and purposeful but, in reality, it's the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm a bit scared, guilty that I have all these waking hours of day to fill pieces of paper (or an empty computer screen in this case) and while I've unpacked thirty boxes, there are many more little cubicles of years of experience waiting to be opened.





This is the time when I need help. Or maybe just a few words of soul wisdom, or just somebody who's been there before and knows how to simply do good to others. So, I go now to my favorite writer: I have even gone so far as to try and imitate her style. Many writers starting out do. Let's hear it for Anne Lamott who always knows how to comfort a brave yet wavering writer soul in need.





But what I really need is to take my own advice and join a writer's group. Then I will feel better about all this.

A Red Line of Happiness

Imagine my happiness when I finally made my way to the Carnegie Library in Squirrel Hill yesterday afternoon. It's been years since I claimed my own public spaces; the public library used to be one of them until I began thinking I was good enough for a library. (Yes, I know it sounds weird.) But growing up alongside New York City's overwhelming array of books, made me feel much smaller than I really was.

Turns out that the glass contained edifice was actually one of the most user-friendly public places I've ever been in. First, there were changing stations and bathrooms, making a mother's life infinitely easier. Also, there were many computer work stations for sending work to print. And when I registered for my family library card, I was greeted in the most sincerest of ways. To be expected, I retained my New York City, standoffish mentality only to find that it was simply unnecessary. When the clerk looked at my maiden and married names, together with the New York City driver's license, he looked as if he couldn't make something out.

"What's your married name?" he asked.

"Sasson." I said.

"But I'll have to use the name on the NYC license." he said.

I was not happy about that.

Once, twice, three times I had to remind myself that even in nice friendly places, this was the way it's done and even if he had to use my former name, there were parts of my identity I didn't want on paper, lesser to be using a New York City driver's license.

But he was a nice man and he elected to changed my name to Sasson. At that point, I wanted to cross out all the red lines out of my life, beginning with the teachers who harbored using red pencils leaving me to figure out what mark meant what. For the remainder of the afternoon, I was able to work uninterrupted surrounded by History books excited by what I was writing knowing I was creating my own piece of history.

When I finally let myself take a bathroom break, I was so happy that the red in me wanted to burst out through. And when I finally let myself pass the early childhood and juvenile sections, I saw how inviting, friendly everything was. You don't such clean starts in life so often. I made a point to finish my line of business, get the chapter synopsis in order and get my hands on some of those books.

Each day is about carving a writing life and reaching my goals, which I feel was meant to be and I know that for the time being, I'm in a better place.