June 7: Time to Quit Navel Gazing and Set Goals
The first week has given us the chance to think a lot about our writing habits, what works, what doesn’t. I have figured out that I make lots of excuses for why I don’t write–or more specifically, why I don’t finish what I start.
One of the beauties of Rebecca McClanahan’s book we’re using is that she doesn’t prescribe what to write, but she offers lots of avenues. Before we get into Chapter 3 tomorrow, I encourage you to think about your goals for this summer. You don’t have to worry about the rest of your writing life. Just think about what you’d like to accomplish in June and July.
Do you have a project (or a number of them, as I do) that you want to finish? Do you want to establish some writing regularity? Do you have a particular genre or audience in mind? Take a little time to put these goals in writing–either here to share or somewhere private so you can review them yourself. I’ll do the same today.
Alabama Tar Heel 
June 7 – Between the Weeks
I’ve been very lazy since last Thursday. They say that confession is good for the soul, but I don’t feel any better since my confession. I really don’t know how it will help my soul, but I’ve done it anyway. I’ll be back in the swing of writing this week, as soon as I jump out of bed tomorrow morning and start thinking about what I’ll write about this week.
You’ve caught me by surprise, Cuz, by asking what kind of writing I want to do this summer. Since almost everything that I have written and that I like has been about Jay, I thought that in June and July I might write about other people, about events that don’t surround my memories of Jay. Maybe I’ll do what you suggested and write about Wendy. (I won’t write about her today, though, because I’m a bit upset with her, and I don’t want to save for posterity negative thoughts about my darlin’ daughter. My mother had a favorite expression, though I can’t remember whom she was referring to. She’d say, “She’s just like a goose; she wakes up in a new world every day.” Now, you tell me how my mother knew that about geese. Since my mother knew everything, I guess she could know that.)
I want to write a book about my home life when I was growing up. I already have a title; however, I’m not sure that I could be faithful to the theme. It’ll be called Growing Up Only and will be about me as an only child. A friend in a writers’ group that I used to belong to said, when I told her that my life was so simple and happy and that I didn’t think it would be very interesting, that she’d LOVE to read a happy book about growing up. Her life wasn’t happy, and most of the books that she had read were about horrible things that had happened in families.
Another project that I’d like to get started on is my book about Jay. As I’ve said before, the contents will probably be a collection of the pieces that I’ve already written about my boy. I just don’t know how to get started and how to arrange the pieces. Maybe I’ll ask for a little help.
As my mother-in-law used to say at the end of a phone conversation, “So there you have it. Good-bye!”
(Just a little added thought. My being upset with Wendy is nothing serious. It’s more a matter of my wearing my feelings on my shoulder. I shouldn’t do that!)
I left out a thought from my post and can’t find out to edit. So . . . please enter this sentence at the end of the second paragraph, inside the parenthesis: Since I’m probably pretty much like my mother’s goose, I won’t remember tomorrow why I was upset with Wendy today. In fact, the reason for my being out of sorts is already fading!
Since we get into truth telling in chapter three, I’ll preempt by saying that your guilty over being upset–and admitting it out loud–is normal. However, mothers of grown children have those feelings as much as (or more than) mothers with children underfoot. No one will hold it against you OR Wendy!
Thanks, Cuz! I needed that!