Week 20: The things we carry

K.K is back.  Yes.  That’s my big writing news of the day.   She weebled, she wobbled, we talked, we didn’t.  And here’s the interesting thing about this project: I NEED her to be here.  Because guess what happened, she stopped and so did I.

(Note to K.K: We need to explore our co-dependence issues.)

And well, she sent me a story and guess what I’m about to send her? That’s right.  So predictable: A story!

That’s kind of how this works, this lipstick junkie thing.  When the going is good, it’s good for everyone.  And there is something about that collective push, that chugging along, marching together, like a unit, even if the feet are weary and the legs ache.  On a side note, I am reading Tim O’ Brien’s “The things they carried” again.   And apart from feeling awed by the writing as well as like a soldier in the battle field, it got me thinking about us writers, and the things there are that we carry.

Like me.  I carry a fifteen pound computer bag made of a a recycled cement bag from some South African factory filled with computer wires, chargers, pens, paper, a couple of New Yorkers still in their packaging, Hanif Kureishi’s “The last word” which it is taking me an inordinately unreasonable amount of time to finish. I also carry a handbag with two credit cards, money, a chap stick from the Third Coast Review table at AWP, and a compact.  In addition to all this, I carry guilt.  Constant, every lasting guilt.  About writing. About life. About kids. About what could be.  About what isn’t.  Added to that is the constant flash of ideas.  I could be writing about it all.  About the carrying, and the being unable to trudge on.   Really,  I read O’ Brien and I think of me in a writer’s field.   Maybe I am doing a disservice to him, or maybe my narcissism has far exceeded a healthy boundary but I feel like the man gets struggle and I get him and even though he is talking about a completely different war, he and I, same page, baby.  Same page.

But then, K.K is there.  To help with the load.  I share hers.  She shares mine.  It’s kinda how it works, like I said.

Meanwhile, our ranks are growing.  We have a new junkie! Carrie is a poet, a spark in the pan, a lively spirit, a sister from another mister.  All of that and so much more.    Look out for a post from her starting this Weekend as she chronicles her own type of madness which is a poem a day for a month!

As for me–

Stories: 12 ish

Week: 20.

Sigh. Burnout much? But I get it.  It was the end of my literary year and i have been dragging.

But Jun 1st was the New Year!  My own Literary New Year, a relatively new tradition where every Jun 1st, I reset my literary year, reset my goals, evaluate, and attack.For anyone who would like to celebrate with me….HAPPY NEW YEAR!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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