Cleared But Re-Writing Anyway (and Too Much Stuff)

Well, it’s been a while, so let me catch you up. Since some of the early scenes of my novel, The Special Project, are set at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, the Air Force has to approve the novel’s release. As many of you may know, the Government has two speeds, slow and slower. By the time the Air Force finally approved my manuscript, I’d spent time away from it and had been working on my next novel. During that time, though there were no glaring faults in the story or writing of it, a little voice, the same voice that told me to write in the first place, kept whispering to me that I could do better. No, it’s good, it’s finally finished, it’s about to be cleared, I’d think and squash that little voice. But, when The Special Project finally did get cleared for public release, I couldn’t move forward. Why? Because I knew that little voice was right. The story is good, but good isn’t good enough. I want great! And, for the first time in a while, I’ve finally been able to carve out a writing day. My house needs cleaned, but that’s okay (I keep telling myself). So here I sit in Kroger’s snack area just finishing up my vegetable soup and about to get a Starbuck’s and dig into revisions. Before I start though, I’m compelled to share some thoughts…

While sitting here chillaxing over a bowl of hot soup on this cold afternoon, free for the day from my usual rip and run pace, I took the time to absorb the world around me. I observed people running (literally, in some cases) around like ants at a picnic, all going places that must be pretty important to be in such a hurry about it. At one point a mother came out of the restroom with her daughter who was trying to tell her something. The mother, apparently not even listening to what the girl was saying, just told her to hurry, they were already behind schedule. I’m wondering how much of this hustle bustle is self-imposed. What was more important than dialog with her young child? I wanted to ask, but didn’t. They were already behind schedule, after all. But still, I wonder, what was more important? A sick relative who needed help? Okay, I’d be alright with that one. Or was it a soccer game, or errands that needed to be run to keep up with a life too full of non-value-added activities and stuff? On that note, every few minutes someone would announce that free things would be given away in 90 seconds. People would come running. No time to listen to their kids, but by golly, they needed that free thing. They didn’t even know what it was, but it was free stuff and everybody needs more stuff, right? More stuff to keep track of, to clean, to store in closets already overflowing. I’m pot by the way, talking about all these kettles. Nobody likes free stuff more than I do, but I’m slowly starting to realize stuff is not what’s important in life. Maybe we should stop collecting stuff we don’t need and buying houses we can barely afford, and cars that cost too damn much, and boats, and toys, but instead listen to the people around us. Really listen, not text on your cell phone or check your Facebook, but hang out, actually in the same room, or better yet, somewhere out in nature, with your loved ones, and look into their eyes when they speak to you. That can tell you a whole lot more than words on a screen.

Okay, random thoughts in check now, unless they’re for my story.

Happy Writing,

Traci, a.k.a. Pot (but working to get better)

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