Friday, April 30, 2021

A Month of Moping

I've just finished a month of moping. 

Actually, it's more accurate to say that I've just finished several months of moping, but for this past month I gave myself explicit, formal permission to mope. (Also to weep and wail, with occasional bouts of blubbering.) 

Reeling from my husband's death in January, and a devastating book rejection in February, and a mass shooting in my neighborhood in March,  I decided not to even try to accomplish anything in April, except for whatever was required by teaching/mentoring jobs to which I was already committed. But nothing more than that. 

No new writing projects. 

No promotional efforts for the two books coming out later this year.

No goals. 

No dreams. 

I described my plan for the month, with some excitement, as "pitiful but not unpleasant." I convinced myself that my time would best be spent simply by passing time: merely by getting through each day, preferably while lying on the couch doing Sudoku puzzles on my i-Pad. I just needed to cross off the days till these current work commitments (all of which I love, by the way) would come to an end. Then surely, once I had emptied my life of everything else, I'd have the space, time, and energy to figure out how to revive my stalled career as a writer (this, though I'd published several dozen books over several decades while working full time at a demanding career AND raising a family). 

After all, as COVID and winter dragged on and on, wasn't the whole country listless and lethargic? The New York Times even had an article about it: "There's a Name for the Blah You're Feeling: It's Called Languishing." Okay, I might as well surrender to the current malaise and languish right along with everybody else. And so I did. 

But I'm here to report that a full month of languishing is less satisfying than one might think. By yesterday I was bored with being bored. I was tired of telling everybody how tired I was. I was sick of being sick of everything. 

So yesterday I did three farewell Sudoku puzzles, gave my i-Pad a gentle kiss, and placed it in an inconvenient location in the garage. I took myself to the Denver Botanic Gardens this morning, with a tote-bag full of stacks of paper containing possible book ideas I'd scribbled down in the past, and realized that my problem was NOT, as I had thought, that I had NO book ideas, but that I have so many I just need to close my eyes and let my finger fall upon one. Maybe it will be a bad idea, but a bad idea can turn into a good idea if I just start working on it. It will not turn into a good idea if it lies dormant in a tote-bag. 

Tomorrow is May 1. I will start a new life! A new, non-languishing life! Or at least I'll try. 

April was my month of refusing even to try.

May is going to be my month of trying.







4 comments:

  1. Smart idea to visit the Botanical gardens. When I was sad in Feb, I read your "every little bird that sings" and had a good cry I didn't know I needed to release. You'll do great writing in May!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm so glad I went to the gardens, Beth. I agree that sometimes a good cry is what we need most - thank goodness for books that can make that happen! And I LOVE the plan of great writing in May!

      Delete
  2. Happy May Day and here's to trying!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Happy May to you, too! Day two of trying is looking good!

    ReplyDelete