If I am barreling along at ninety miles an hour, no one best get in my way – including me. I am usually very careful about making sure that the innocent don’t get run over or hurt. I take all precautions and watch for the signs. Rain or shine, day or dead of night, nothing will not stop me when I am going full speed ahead. It is only when I realize that I have left me behind in the dust, standing somewhere back along the side of the road like one of those abandoned shoes, that I make an effort to slow down, turn around and pick me up again. Short reprieve. Hang on to something because we’re going fast and furious.
Now you all know I am not talking about driving – geez, my daughter already comments on my pace of driving. In fact, her exact words were, “just follow my mom, she drives slow enough she won’t lose you…” pooh! I’ll have you know at one time I entertained the desire to drive a race car… no, I didn’t ever do it, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t entertain the idea, once upon a time, long, long ago. Anyway, I’m not talking about driving. I’m talking about writing. Go figure.
It feels like I’ve written a million words already this year (what does a million words feel like?) with all the projects I have on the go. They have not all been the same kinds of words, either, which is kind of cool. Diversity is a good thing – one never runs out of things to do, or in this case, things to write about. The creative processes for most of my writing – poetry, short stories, journal writing, even my blogging – just move along with the smooth flow of a contented summer river ripe with life, bordered by lush descriptive nature, arriving where it’s supposed to go when it’s supposed to get there. It’s a rather lovely trip style.
No warning, just like the change of weather in Alberta. Boom! Along comes the thunder and the torrential rains, filling the creative river with needs and wants and required words to back them all up. It no longer takes you for the scenic cruise, it takes you by the collar and yanks you downstream on a rip-roaring ride. You can’t blink, you can’t determine if you need to scream for help… and although you can’t swim for the life of you, it won’t let you sink, either, as long as you pay attention and do what you need to do. There’s a process with this project, too, but it’s more geared to that left-brain way of thinking. It is business and the business is to be done.
When the ride finally flings me on to the bank where I cling catching my breathing, I realize I am soaking wet and emotionally spent, not from almost drowning and giving up, but from a driven, passionate creative desire that has come to fruition. As I recover, I pace myself and know that I must get up again and jump back on that bronco, hold on tight and just go for it – this ride is far from done… it’s only just begun.