So What's YOUR Excuse???

Ugh.

So, yes, dear reader, what is my excuse? I promised to blog at least once a week. Cuz you all want to know what’s going on in this, er, maundering mind. I also promised not to bore you. I will keep the infernal whining to a minimum of 500 words. No more, no less.

Excuse the typos and bad grammar, i.e., the use of ‘cuz’ as opposed to ‘because’. It is the result of feverish revising of my novel. Yes, to all of you who have heard previous lamenting, I’m still working on it 3 years later but again, I reiterate, it is hard work writing a book. I want it to be (cringe) as near perfect as possible before handing off to the benevolent souls willing to read it for me and offer feedback. Then I’ll be diving head first into the deep blue sea of literary agents and publishers and I don’t swim very well. Especially when undertows of ‘is it good enough? Does it suck? Should I bother’ threaten to drown me.

And art. Always art. When the pen goes dry I reach for a gouge. My ‘Music Muse’ triptych begins taking on another form, this time in linoleum cut prints. The Girlz have seen life as oil pastels and collages. Soon they will be seeped in ink and crushed in a press. But first, I have to gouge. God willing there will be a show in December and again Doubt rears its evil little head; ‘maybe no one will like them, I shouldn’t bother, who do I think I am anyway???’

I don’t like wasting time whining. I’d rather be working. I’d rather be living. My pouts took on a different light last week learning about the sudden death of a high school friend. Yes, I know I’m 40 and my comrades will be passing but my class lost 2 great guys this year way too soon. Such events would throw anyone into a dark place. Mine was a bluesy tailspin and for a few moments on Wednesday morning I wondered if the Muses had abandoned me. If the right words would continue to find my page. If pain might over-ride the creative flow that had been coursing so fervently…if those nasty inklings held any merit…

Pain, I have learned, is mandatory in this life. It’s Suffering that is optional. My lost classmates had one major attribute in common; the lives they lived were to the fullest. The loved they bestowed was the greatest of legacies.

There is a difference between whining and mourning. There is a difference between perfectionism and fear. For now it is November 14, 2010. It is a magnificent morning. The leaves are burning orange against the bluest of So Cal skies. And my hands itch to get back to work.

God bless Dal Jones. God bless Victor Spirov. Now it’s back to my bad grammar, gray shreds of linoleum and blogs that don't exceed 500 words.

501 words, to be exact.