seasonal affective disorder
My house is full of lights and smells. Softly sweet that wafts up from the candle in the corner, mingling with the dying scent of dinner. Slight pine from the tree that takes up the corner, and gentle, minty tones from my hair.
The twinkling lights of the season, in varied colors fill our alcoves, corners, windows in a soft rainbow of magic. We are snuggled into our respective chairs, bundled in blankets. I am staring at my blank screen, waiting for her to speak to me. My fingers are itching to type in her voice, I just have to wait for her to come.
So I languish in the purgatory of the unwritten. A memoir too painful to process, at present. Fiction, crackling with elecricity, with a main character who is difficult to tame. This Christmas seeming to lack joy. This heart, so heavy with the load. Even in all of this beauty.
December 14th, 2008 at 10:24 pm
That is some writer’s block you have. Lean back in your chair and close your eyes. Let your mind wander a bit. Whatever is waiting to be written will come to you. But be ready for a gusher . . .
December 14th, 2008 at 10:42 pm
It’s going to hit you. I know it will. Your fingers won’t be able to keep up.
Breathe.
December 14th, 2008 at 11:56 pm
I’ve never felt inside what fiction requires–I’ve never felt unwritten characters inside. So I can’t imagine trying to dredge them up. Wow. That’s pain.
Have Christmases had joy for you in the past? I always find holidays flat–if I’m trying to be in the “spirit of the season.” The second I let go of tradition or trying to achieve anything, they feel great.
December 15th, 2008 at 12:12 am
I’m pretty sure a high five in camaraderie would be inappropriate, but I’m not really good at appropriate, anyway. I think I get this, was my point.
December 15th, 2008 at 3:48 am
Oh most beautiful of sisters. How wonderful it is to talk with you again. Your words make my heart ache and sing all at the same time.
Lots of love, sunshine and highveld thunderstorm magic are winging their way over to you*
December 15th, 2008 at 4:45 am
I hear you and feel you. SAD sucks. Writer’s block sucks. Both together are just completely unfair.
December 15th, 2008 at 5:05 am
i get SAD for very different reasons, it’s why i load myself up with projects in the winter and look everywhere for bright bits of color to pretend that it’s not winter and that it’s not depressing. xo
December 15th, 2008 at 7:33 am
Thinking about you…
It’ll come. Don’t worry…
December 15th, 2008 at 7:54 am
those voices will speak again. be gentle with them. drink some eggnog. they’ll be back.
December 15th, 2008 at 8:11 am
Your hair smells like mint? Oooh.
Those words will come back. They will.
December 15th, 2008 at 8:17 am
maybe your unwritten stole away to a tropical island with my unwritten and they are laying together on the beach right now sipping margaritas.
assholes.
December 15th, 2008 at 9:26 am
The words come when you least expect them to.
December 15th, 2008 at 9:33 am
Dude, don’t tame her, don’t ever tame her, just love her.
December 15th, 2008 at 10:52 am
humph. Minty hair. My hair has a blob of sap stuck in it (again!) because I keep crawling under the tree to add water. The other day I asked my daughter to check if I’d combed it all out. She said, No, your hair is all white. Sadly, the sap was out; I just need a root job.
December 15th, 2008 at 11:53 am
It’s heavy stuff. She’ll come back, after she takes a respite from carrying the load.
December 15th, 2008 at 12:32 pm
I am falling out of my chair, panting, totally itchy to read this novel, to meet this girl, to drink in your brilliance. Any chance you will post any of it here?
December 15th, 2008 at 3:26 pm
I always need to remember to keep my head up, because ‘I know it will come’ in these kinds of situations.
Everything will be fine!
December 15th, 2008 at 5:02 pm
Joy is not always in the season itself but in a singular moment.
December 15th, 2008 at 6:31 pm
She’ll come when you least expect it – and in the meantime, there’s always egg nog to induce her!
December 15th, 2008 at 7:07 pm
Is it the season I wonder? The lack of fresh lemony sunlight always drains my thoughts. Sit by the window for a while with a cup of hot mint tea….can’t say it works for me since I’m not a writer but it sure does make me feel better :O)
December 15th, 2008 at 7:11 pm
That phrase, “the purgatory of the unwritten” is just so perfect.
Hugs to you–even in this season…
December 15th, 2008 at 7:31 pm
Who says you have to write it now?
December 15th, 2008 at 8:08 pm
Think it…
Feel it…
Write it!
“It” will come. I promise.
December 15th, 2008 at 9:22 pm
Hopefully it will come soon…
This is an emotional time of year for me too…
December 16th, 2008 at 5:02 am
patience, my love, patience.
(That was lovely, btw.)
December 16th, 2008 at 12:49 pm
((you back))
Hang in there. And keep writing.
Then, go driving and look at all the lights and maybe have some hot chocolate, spiked or not, with your lover. Take a break from thinking if you can.
December 16th, 2008 at 1:13 pm
the purgatory of the unwritten…I know it well.
December 16th, 2008 at 2:05 pm
Sounds like somebody’s got a case of the holiday blues…
Have some nog and relax. It’ll come. Isn’t that what everyone says?
Truth is, I don’t know the real cure for writers block. No one really does, even if they say they do.
It might just be boredom. Or luck. Or not waiting.
Not waiting sounds good. Let’s go with that.
December 17th, 2008 at 5:10 am
It’s a conjuring, isn’t it? A walking around and looking bent over for that thing that is currenly misplaced. “Where did I leave her? I know she’s around here somewhere.”
December 19th, 2008 at 10:15 pm
“languish in the purgatory of the unwritten”
How appropriate that even there you paint beautiful pictures. This was gorgeous.