Word Raccoon is still adjusting to novel writing. She howls when I open the Google doc of my WIP, and then, when I ignore her, she settles and puts her paw on the keyboard occasionally to see if I will give her a turn.
If she’s behaving, I will. She adds flavor.
If she tries to turn a prose sentence into poetry, I tell her that is not the spice we want and gently set her on the floor.
Before I know it, she’s back in my lap or perched on my shoulder, which she prefers.
I get her point. This round of novel writing is slower than usual. I have never written so slowly. Yet it feels right. Not polished, of course not, not yet, but like it’s saying what I want it to say. What it wants to say.
Today, I was up at 5:30 after swearing again that I was going to sleep in. But WR pried open my eyelids and yelled into them (as if I could hear through them), “Time for poetry?”
It was not time for poetry, but it was time for tea and prose.
I had to turn on a timer to keep her from taking over. Half an hour, take a break, set the timer for another half hour, repeat.
By the third round, she was irritated beyond measure.
“What about that poetry trail opportunity you read about this morning?” she demanded. “The deadline is soon. Shouldn’t we see if we have any poetry that might fit?”
I had read the flyer. We did not, in fact, have any poetry that would work. It’s for Fox Island County Park’s Winter Art & Poetry Walk, a public walking trail featuring art and poetry along the path.
WR began having Robert Frost aspirations until I reminded her this called for something different. Something less layered. Less complex. Sweeter. No subtext. No symbolism. Just a walk in the woods.
“No tricks, WR. No double entendre. And for goodness’s sake, no swearing. Just a sweet little poem people can meditate on while they walk, because that’s what this calls for.”
I imagined families taking a stroll through the woods the way ours used to, trying to get some air even though the weather is chilly and the trees are bare. (“Whose woods these are, I think I know…” I first encountered that poem on The Muppet Show, no lie. See? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Gszb4oG9EM)
I wrote a poem I thought my dad might enjoy if he were walking the trail. One I wouldn’t have to answer for if he read it, LOL.
Word Raccoon was miffed, but she admitted she liked that I put a squirrel in it.
Anyway, I received word this afternoon that the poem will be included in the walk. WR and I are proud.
Even with a hair appointment today and two immunizations tonight, we are still game for some evening writing. So far.
Here’s hoping the side effects stay away long enough to do it again tomorrow.
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