. . . okay, so the thing is, life happened!
It happened a lot! All over the place. It was messy, it was divine, it was sweet, it was unexpected, tragic, and somehow through all that life, I forgot to live (and choose not to blog). And then I was reminded that life is for living. Thank you to my dear husband for the reminder.
So here I am. Again. In the blogosphere. Realizing I cannot simply rip down a foundation to fix a crooked screen. Thusly, I am back on poethussy, intending to rant a bit about the writing life, contemplate the daily pleasures, and mostly just re-engage in the world. I still think that if Virginia Woolf or Flannery O'Connor had been alive in the digital age, they would each have a blog and we would be a richer society for it. My other writing hero, the living and fantastic Barbara Kingsolver, does not blog, but she does give some beautiful writing advice on her website. I am saddened and delighted by her lack of bloggery: on one hand, I'd rather see her squared away in that office of hers, reimagining the world; on the other hand, I really want to know what she has to say on a daily basis. Anyway, her website is here. Her advice is priceless.
My advice for now: grow something. Love something. A book or a bouquet of flowers. Scratch your dog's head. Buy new catnip for the kitties. Do something to enrich your life. Tonight, I had a perfect cup of Lady Grey tea. Tomorrow? Who knows. But there will be writing. I'm (fairly) sure of that.
