Contrary to my roundabout thinking that I didn’t get any, or enough, work done last week, I’m making some damn fine progress.  Cutting less.  Massaging more.  Spending my time reading over scene by detailed chatty-chat scene and asking, “why are you here?” and “what do you have to do with the central, and driving, purpose in telling this story?”  When I’m working, when I’m dug in, buried in the story, I feel like I have a soul like Solomon, divided dead down the center:  Side A is digging and questioning and searching, and Side B is distant, looking at my story (my real, live story) through the longest possible lens, cold as fucking ice cubes in a frosted metal tray.

Remember how hard it was to get those ice cubes out?  Sometimes I feel like that’s how the story is coming out of me, cracked and divided into neat squares.


I still have the stack of books about stepfamilies on my desk, but they’re like one brick in a giant, not-so-sturdy wall.  I stare for minutes at the them, scan their spines, note my lime green Post It flags — look here! — waving at me from the deckled edges of stiff, not-much-read, pages.  And think.  And try to dismiss.  And don’t.  I have dogs to walk.  Supper to think about.  Books to read.  Running to run.  I have my noise-cancelling headphones.  I have my noise-canceling headphones to shut out the constant presence of leaf-blowers around the neighborhood.  When did we all decide, as humans I mean, that we can’t bear the nagging presence of fallen leaves?


6 thoughts on “Ice

  1. jpon

    And why is it that no two leaf blowers (or lawn mowers) can operate at the same time? One finishes and the next one starts up five minutes later. I mean let’s have a window of two hours per week when everyone’s yard gets done and then no more noise. And then we can get some writing done.

    And nice blog, too.

  2. Josey

    reading this gave me goosebumps (and not just because the very idea of ice causes me to squirm, seriously–my kids are not aloud to chew ice around me ((yes, i’m that kind of mom)) and i can’t even bare to get ice out of our refrigerator’s automatic ice dispenser b/c i can’t handle the sound of the ice rubbing together, trying to make it’s way out…).

    i don’t get our infatuation with leaves or landscapes either. i’m quite sure our house is the bane of our neighborhood because of my lack of concern for all the weeds in our landscape (and my husband’s lack of time to deal with it…).

    keep on it, solomon!!

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