In the Trenches

This really is a perfect image for what I am doing right now (on a twenty-three hour -thank you daylight savings time-non fiction proposal writing retreat without my children across town). When I looked at images of real trenches, my entire being sucked inward. (This really is not an idiom to be taken lightly. How we get from the trenches of WWI, to these particular styles is for someone else to write about.) I will tell you that I am partial to number 7, although in another life, I’d like to be the woman wearing number 1. Maybe it’s her hair. Maybe her stance.

A) It is pouring here.

B) Writing a proposal is very much like determining which style coat to buy when it is just time to do so.  Is the book going to be blog posts and back story? Will it include resources and how to’s? Where will it start, where will it end? Should the poems be included as side bars? Who is my audience? I am qualified to write this why?  The movie version must cast Jamie Curtis as me. Can I wear that coat on a cruise ship, hiking the Himalayas, a t-ball game, and an evening stroll along the beach?

C) I did not miss, I LONGED for my children last night. I had NO IDEA that I would. It completely hit me over the head at midnight, two, three, and so on. The rain pounded on the window as my ache to scoop Marcel in one arm and Sammy in the other nearly sent me racing down the five flights of stairs to my car parked below.

D) Being without children for a day is something I have not experienced in over three years. The struggle to stay in a story about being possessed and changed by motherhood while sensing a long ago semi-banished me on the other side of a large glass door knocking softly is not something I have time to entertain. And look, she is wearing coat number 1!


Proposal is such a loaded word.

I have never been proposed to, formally. Well there was my high school sweetie. AHHH. (Time warp.)

This weekend I am going to wrestle with a nonfiction book proposal.   I am hauling off to a friend’s house with no internet or children for twenty four hours. I have a lot of prep to do before that. I am not so good at the prep part. I rarely strecth before running.

I’ll be back on Sunday to report out on what happens. I see me as the one down on one knee. And my darling draft, in whatever form she chooses to take on a given day, as the coy creature awaiting my proposal to marry her to the publishing world in all her glory! What I am doing this weekend–is the ring! (Let the metaphor go Mama C…)

I feel like I need to birth the first book, because I am already writing the second one in my other head. And, having two heads is way to much work for one neck.

I have three guest posts that I have been invited to write in the last couple of weeks.  I am also designing a proposal for a workshop that I would like to offer to preschool parents/parents of young kids around the “How not to raise racist kids” platform.  All of this work is interconnected which feels hugely gratifying and intentional. I see so much need for the work I am called to do, and more and more links are appearing on how to make that happen. They are little links, in a long process. The best advice I have received comes from Sam’s namesake; “Don’t think about what you don’t want to do. Put your energy into asking the question; ‘What is it that I want to be doing.’ Then you will gravitate towards making shifts in what you are doing to accommodate what you want to be doing.”  OK she said it much better, but I love the idea. It is working over here.

To finding the permission to let yourself do what you want to be doing, and proposing it to the universe. She won’t say no!