"Good ideas, like good pickles, are crisp, enduring, and devilishly hard to make." ~ Rushworth Kidder
I spent the last week in a pickle. A pickle jar, rather. For the first time in a very long time, I am experiencing what a writer calls a ‘writer’s block.’
Call it nerves, the loss of our Lulu, our home struck by lightning – pick one or all – I have not been able to work on The Red Chair. This is very frustrating and I hold myself to a high standard in terms of a deadline. Being the number 3 on the Enneagram, this is a constant struggle. We measure our worth by how much we produce.
Frankly friends, I am discouraged. I will not go into all the details because it serves no good purpose. Let’s just say that there are times as a creative that I feel I am yelling into a deep, dark hole and the only echo I hear is my own.
As I had lunch with my darling husband, I told him that it was a bitter pill to swallow when one must take their own advice. That advice being that I need to have my bad day, clear my head, and go on with things. There is no creative outlet that I have been fortunate enough to be gifted with that I would not do if no one else ever read one word, heard one song, or looked at one painting. I would still continue, and so I shall. While I would love for everyone to engage with me, first and foremost I do it for myself.
I have decided that the first week in July, I will be back with a new short story. It’s time for another installment from the Eustace Howard clans. That bunch is crazy and you never know what happens next. I will continue to work on The Red Chair, but I miss sharing shorter pieces.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for those who make the time to read my words, leave a comment, or tell me to keep going. A huge shout out to my small tribe of Patrons on Patreon who support me not only in words, but with their pocket book.
This too shall pass. In the meantime, I will enjoy my sweet pickles and sweet green tomato pickles. It has been like standing in my mother and grandmother’s kitchens in Improve once again. I would dearly love to talk to either of them. Mother would say all the things I need to hear right now and Bigma, as we called my grandmother, would tell me to eat another pickle.
Here’s where you shine. It’s knowing yourself, the blunt honesty you use with you. You’re giving yourself a finger wagging with a compassionate tone. This is why people call you. They get the Tracey Combo. Truth with a kindly drop of love on top.
Keep Going! I love all of your stories and The Red Chair will be finished in its own time and yours. Love you!
The Red Chair, waits for a refreshed hand to write her story. Period!
These Blogs read as a kaleidoscope of the complexity of Earthwalk happenstance & bless us with an opportunity to process & think about stuff.
Don’t be too hard on yourself !! You have had a lot on your plate lately so your mind and body need a chance to heal. You will come back to the Red Chair refreshed and ready to go !!
Lightening? What happened? It’s easy for me to say that the product of your inspiration cannot be rushed. Your clarity in carrying out the vision your mother imparted has been a divine gift. Now that you’ve fleshed that out, you must be digging deeper to weave it together with your flair. I look forward to reading it. It’s not about the number of pages, so perhaps you’ve reached a point for a natural conclusion. Just know many of us appreciate your time, effort and result.