The essay I’m working on is almost done. Its birth is the hard part. I don’t want to give it up. I like being in process, enjoy the maybe-this, maybe-that kind of experience.
Working on a piece of writing feels like when I was pregnant. I felt so fat and sassy. Every day I got up and was pregnant. End of story. I waddled around town with a big smile on my face.
For me, writing is like that. I get up in the morning and have something to sink my teeth into, because my essay or article isn't finished, not yet.
When my daughter was only a few days old, she had to be taken back to the hospital for a lab test. In the car, on the way to the hospital, I started crying. The tears came from nowhere. I didn’t even realize I was sad.
Looking back, I think it was hormones combined with relief, letting go, giving up, the kind that comes from having wanted something for so long and then finally getting it.
Finishing a piece of writing is both happy and sad like that.
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1 comment:
I found this entry touching. It gave a peek into how satisfying is was to feel "fat and sassy." It also reveals how significant writing is in the writer's life.
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