Monday, January 7, 2013
voice, consistency, body
Going through my manuscript this weekend I had to keep reminding myself this is a draft, this is a draft. There are parts wherein the voice I intend to use sings out, is complete on the page; and there are parts where it falls completely flat. Ugh. But again, this is a draft. I have to remember not to be too hard on myself and to just do the work. I was also rereading one of my favorite books this weekend, Ahab's Wife. The voice the author uses in her writing slays, kills, is ridiculously gorgeous. Do not compare, Lizz, do not compare.
Yesterday morning I went down to my childhood home for breakfast with my parents. I had fresh oranges and pomegranates from their trees. I am so incredibly blessed to have my parents still living in the home I was born and grew up in. Going home each weekend to spend time with them is beautiful. Eating oranges off their trees as I've been doing my entire life. I remember my dad planting the pomegranate tree when I was younger and I remember looking at the scraggy thing and being skeptical it would ever give fruit. Now the tree is taller than the house and each year bends over under the weight of all the ripe fruit. Patience. Appreciation.
I've been hearing a lot of talk these days about the flu. I had several long conversations about this this weekend with various family members. An aunt who works for the county told me she had to get it, the county said there were no exemptions this year for religious or other beliefs. My sister, who is super organic and anti-medicine is getting the flu shot, which blew my mind. But she suffers from really bad asthma. My dad, a diabetic, is getting it. I refuse, as does my mom. I've never had the flu. I'm pretty healthy these days. I am a miserable sick person, when I'm sick, but I have a lot of misgivings about having a virus, albeit a dead one, injected into my body.