29 July 2010

The oxygen of writing

Since my return from Africa earlier this month, I've noticed (as have others) that I'm taking a long time to settle down again.
I seldom struggle with jet lag as intensely or for as long as I have this time, and I'm often nostalgic and reflective. Hours--days--go by without me talking (unless "What would you like for supper?" and "Please pass the salt" and "Will you answer the phone?" count as conversations). Yes, dear Reader, I know this is hard to believe. Try.
I've spent weekly quality time with my close circle (gym and accountability partners, special family friends, a couple of neighbours and the odd colleague), and I've attended three birthday celebrations involving good food and great company, but by and large I've been a hermit ... and I'll most likely remain reclusive until further notice.
I am reluctant to answer the phone which seems to ring ceaselessly {and no, Ms. Ip, this will not be the year I get a cell phone--thanks for the offer to buy me one for Christmas!} and I've even gone so far as switching my computer off one day a week: a practice I once enjoyed but dispensed with due to the complaints of critics. What on Google Earth did we do without the wonders of modem technology for all those centuries?! 
My spouse thinks I've been away from home and hearth too long; my sister (to whom I just spoke) thinks it's time to book my next air ticket to Africa; and I think this trip has changed me in ways I'm only now awake enough to explore.
One thing is certain: I've wanted to be a writer for years (since I was seven, actually), and when I finally brought out a short and sweet co-authored book in 2007 I was ... relieved. But since then I haven't written as regularly as my soul would like; I confess my writing is largely a hit-and-miss affair. To remedy this appalling situation, I've drawn up a Writing Plan to share with my accountability partner on the morrow, and I'll take it from there.
I have the ideas--they rouse me from my slumber in the wee hours--and I definitely have enough words to share (!) but often I lack the discipline, the routine and the respect for my own writing-as-work. These past few weeks have found me longing, yearning, aching to write.... And so my journey has once again begun in Earnest (a sleepy town outside Calgary). 

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