It was an act of hubris to lay claim to being a writer. I have not had a moment to think about the Jaeckels and getting them on that boat in the last 40 or so hours. I am skulking behind the curtain trying to ignore the noise and action going on outside my window. The builder only comes a few days a week as he has other commitments. Today he is here with his sidekick and the plumbers have turned up to start work. There are four people hammering, drilling and banging things around outside. On the plus side it is progress albeit expensive. On the minus side, concentration is difficult and Blithe Boy definitely is eschewing napping.
I’ve squeezed my car into a gap between the ute, trailer and van and am already wondering how I am going to turn it around to go pick up the kids from school. Almost all of our land is hill, usuable but not parkable (not even for canons) so space is at a premium.
I am required to skulk because I am flat out trying to get the resident’s website up and running and wrapping up the editing for the Tidy Towns materials. Everyone else has done their work and now I am supposed to be pulling it all together. Blithe Boy has taken to grabbing my hand as it rests on the mouse and pulling me away from the computer. Merry Girl couldn’t find me the other day then sighed “I don’t know why I didn’t just look at the computer.”
I’m comforting myself with the notion that even Greek gods have off days. Read Dan Simmons or “gasp” the classics themselves to see how bad things can get. My life barely rates on their scale, which I guess is the point.
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Marburg Pub, circa 1891
Living and Writing among the Historical Ghosts of the Rosewood Scrub
Telling stories
My fictional family, the Jaeckels, left Marburg, Germany after the Prussian takeover in 1866 and ended up in Marburg, in the colony of Queensland, Australia. This is my story of writing their story.
On history:
"Our apparatniks will continue making
the usual squalid mess called History:/
all we can pray for is that artists,/
chefs and saints may still appear to blithe it."
W.H. Auden
Marburg Pub, circa 1891
Blithe's Bookshelf
1 comment:
But still I'm proud that you labeled yourself. Very very brave to do.
My writing teacher just came from a conference (book and publishing related). At some point, a panel of published writers was asked how many of them wrote every day. None of them do. They asked the audience (of writers, editors and agents, mostly) and virtually no one raised their hands. My teacher said she was one of the only ones, and thought, "Again! I fell for the myth again!"
So, it's not an off day. It's a day you aren't writing on your book, when you're doing other stuff.
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