always

Fittingly, this blog ends with a Patsy Cline song piping through the speakers.  "Always" is the last song I used for The War On Emily Dickinson, it's my favorite Patsy tune.  It's how I'll be with writing; always.

I might take a bit of a break in 2012, concentrating on the editing and publishing, but if not for all the writing I've managed in 2011 (and 2010 and 2009), revising and formatting won't occur.  Writing spurs me, always (ha ha) some plot in my head.  Music is so intrinsic with the words, so as long as I'm living, breathing, there will be tunes and words.  I can't stop them.

What were the most memorable moments of 2011?  Definitely publishing Emily Dickinson and the rest head the list.  Yet, I wrote nine manuscripts in a year that flew past, full of so many unexpected occurrences!  Indie publishing was one, but how about my eldest getting engaged, my two youngest living at home, that horrible goiter, trips to Washington DC (that one spurred a novel plot) and Southern California (that one spurred a phobia about crawling motorway traffic).  All this interspersed with writing; most months saw me at the desktop spilling yet another tale; I loved writing In The Blue, mostly as it was an idea a few years old that I wasn't sure would ever see the light of day.  Beautiful Animals was terrific, also a test, finishing a novel with so many interruptions.  That prepared me for NaNo a few months later, when Penny Angel and For God And Country were shoved around while life took first dibs.  Some Happy Endings came out of the blue, a short but poignant tale of old flames and bright sparks.  Captured Words And Deeds may carry over to a sequel, but Phil and Julia were a twosome I just had to explore.  A Normal Life was bound in my desire to visit Alabama, noting racism amid an unusual relationship.  A Crack In The Wall was my first foray into fan fiction, a swipe at Doctor Who, also an unintended homage to the film Alien.  And that leaves South Downs.

South Downs was another sudden yarn, initially inspired by the earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand.  But it owns deeper implications, the loss of a spouse set where no argument is made over whom to love.  The title comes from a Roxy Music tune, see how the music matters!  At times social issues emerge in my writing, but I try to weave them seamlessly; the story, usually concerning love and death, matters most.  But in those words, paragraphs and scenes, I want to share my personal mantra, which centers not on violence, greed, corruption.  On love and sacrifice, honor and justice, right over wrong.  Writing is a powerful tool, and shouldn't be used for nefarious purposes.  It is of course, every day, but not by me.

Then I giggle; I have some pretty strong opinions, so those with opposing views might think me subversive.  Dangerous, maybe a little.  Writing about love and death, disabilities and sexuality, religion and baseball (don't forget the baseball!) sets me apart; no zombies, no vampires, no spells.  But plenty of angst, loads of drama!  That's my stock-in-trade, wrapped in a wide variety of characters and situations, genders and sensibilities.  And hummingbirds; for goodness sakes, don't forget the hummingbirds!

I need to feed them today, the few that buzz around in the middle of winter.  They made their way into A Slider, Tumbling, will probably muscle their tiny little selves into other books too.  I'm distracted by their minute frames, elegant and swift, constantly moving.  A writer needs to remain that vigilant, either in observation, or the scribbling of the days.  Creating worlds and persons, moments and eons, as large as the state in which I live or as small and fragile as a hummingbird.  What we write is the same; it might be loud, voracious, needy.  Or soft and whispery, here then gone.  Just like we are, here then gone.

Make your moment count, be it of hummingbird or politician proportions.  You have this one shot; don't waste it!