Had a hard time falling asleep last night. Didn't get as much sleep as I'd hoped. Got out of bed this morning though. Drank coffee. Sat at the kitchen island and wrestled. It feels like wrestling sometimes. The writing, the editing. I was emailing with my agent yesterday and I used the word "beast." This book is a beast, I said. It's becoming my boss. Two B words that fit right now. But she was optimistic in her battle-themed reply. You will prevail.
And I will. I will get there and it is a matter of keeping at it, and slogging through. I was reminded this morning of the importance of body and mind. Our characters have inner lives, yes, minds full of ideas and regrets, hopes and memories, but they also have bodies, bodies that move through the world. In one scene, my character goes back to a bar to pick up his credit card from the night before. The night is blurry for him; he doesn't remember much after all that beer. But when he walks back into the bar, his body remembers. He sits in a stool and it comes back to him. In detail.
I worked out this morning. Did a 6:30am class. It was hard. My muscles shook and grew sore. I sweat. I moved my body. I remembered being on the soccer field. Running around the reservoir. My body remembered. The rest of the morning was a bit of a mess. We missed the school bus, so Husband had to race Big Girl to the East Side. I walked the littles up Amsterdam Avenue to preschool. I tried my hardest to pay attention to things. The autumn breeze on my face. The specific blue of the sky. I got the girls donuts and in the store, I took it in, the sweet smell. And it came back to me. Sunday mornings, when Dad used to bring home a brown, grease-spotted bag full of donuts.
Mind and body. Body and mind.
In writing and life, we must pay attention to both, no?