Well, it’s been a while, so let me catch you up. Since some
of the early scenes of my novel, The Special Project, are set at Wright-Patterson
Air Force Base, the Air Force has to approve the novel’s release. As many of
you may know, the Government has two speeds, slow and slower. By the time the Air
Force finally approved my manuscript, I’d spent time away from it and had been
working on my next novel. During that time, though there were no glaring faults
in the story or writing of it, a little voice, the same voice that told me to
write in the first place, kept whispering to me that I could do better. No, it’s
good, it’s finally finished, it’s about to be cleared, I’d think and squash
that little voice. But, when The Special Project finally did get cleared for
public release, I couldn’t move forward. Why? Because I knew that little voice
was right. The story is good, but good isn’t good enough. I want great! And, for
the first time in a while, I’ve finally been able to carve out a writing day. My
house needs cleaned, but that’s okay (I keep telling myself). So here I sit in
Kroger’s snack area just finishing up my vegetable soup and about to get a
Starbuck’s and dig into revisions. Before I start though, I’m compelled to share
some thoughts…
While sitting here chillaxing over a bowl of hot soup on
this cold afternoon, free for the day from my usual rip and run pace, I took
the time to absorb the world around me. I observed people running (literally,
in some cases) around like ants at a picnic, all going places that must be
pretty important to be in such a hurry about it. At one point a mother came out
of the restroom with her daughter who was trying to tell her something. The
mother, apparently not even listening to what the girl was saying, just told
her to hurry, they were already behind schedule. I’m wondering how much of this
hustle bustle is self-imposed. What was more important than dialog with her
young child? I wanted to ask, but didn’t. They were already behind schedule,
after all. But still, I wonder, what was more important? A sick relative who
needed help? Okay, I’d be alright with that one. Or was it a soccer game, or
errands that needed to be run to keep up with a life too full of non-value-added
activities and stuff? On that note, every few minutes someone would announce that
free things would be given away in 90 seconds. People would come running. No
time to listen to their kids, but by golly, they needed that free thing. They
didn’t even know what it was, but it was free stuff and everybody needs more
stuff, right? More stuff to keep track of, to clean, to store in closets
already overflowing. I’m pot by the way, talking about all these kettles.
Nobody likes free stuff more than I do, but I’m slowly starting to realize
stuff is not what’s important in life. Maybe we should stop collecting stuff we
don’t need and buying houses we can barely afford, and cars that cost too damn
much, and boats, and toys, but instead listen to the people around us. Really
listen, not text on your cell phone or check your Facebook, but hang out,
actually in the same room, or better yet, somewhere out in nature, with your
loved ones, and look into their eyes when they speak to you. That can tell you
a whole lot more than words on a screen.
Okay, random thoughts in check now, unless they’re for my
story.
Happy Writing,
Traci, a.k.a. Pot (but working to get better)
