That's the sound of me scre-e-e-e-e-e-ching back into my blog, having discovered that Cynthia Leitich Smith mentioned it in her world-famous ya and children's literature blog, cynsations . (Yay, Cyn! Thanks!) So wait a minute as I throw on some makeup (slap, smack, puff) put on something decent to wear (tug, swish, oof) comb my hair (snapple gapple pop) and stretch my lips into a giant pink grin. :-)
Okay, whew, I'm ready!
Been gone awhile. Been adrift. Not the bad, lost-on-the-stormy-sea-on-a-dark-night kind of drifting, but more of a gliding-slowly-across-a-motionless-lake-on-a-still-day kind. I've started writing a new book. It might prove to be a total stinker, suitable only for tossing into the trashcan, but for now I'm having fun with it. Moreover, finding words again after a long time of lost belief feels wonderful.
I attribute my reawakening, in no small part, to the tippy-end of the lake I mentioned in an earlier post. I walk there almost every day at lunch, on the days I work my paycheck job, and it refreshes me. It is not a beautiful lake--it is small and scrubby and littered at the edges--and yet, it is a beautiful lake! The water changes color with the sky and with the wind, but it also changes its intention. One day it is tame, even dull--just another ruined piece of suburbia--another day it is a dangerous current, a swirl tugging you down, a harsh wilderness. There are almost always a few Canadian geese floating around--small boats in the distance--and sometimes a couple of mallards, which are my favorite. Swimmers and bobbers, they seem impervious to being tugged down. Or, they go down but pop right back up, a trick I've never quite mastered.