The Next Episode
I tucked the book about EMDR into my bag this morning, then realized on the commute that I'd completely lost interest.
And so the tides of my attention shift again. It's a little disorienting; this intensity. But I'm learning that life seems easier when I follow its lead.
I feel myself drawn back to the memoir. I left it feeling frustrated with the spiraling edits, none of which seemed to get me any closer to my goal. Then I read a blog post about Mary Karr's technique, in The Liar's Club, of starting a story at the height of intensity.
Ah, I thought. Maybe that's my way in.
In the few months I've been away from the memoir-in-progress, my frustration has died back, and a pleasant longing has grown in its place. One flower wilts, another blooms.
I've also become captivated by The Handmaid's Tale—the book and the TV series. The constant Facebook video trailers piqued my interest, so I signed up for a free trial of Hulu and watched the first three episodes. And then, because I had nothing more to watch, I downloaded the Kindle version of the Margaret Atwood book (which is free for Amazon Prime members).
Needless to say, I love them both. Atwood's language is so sparse and deceptively beautiful. And each scene of the show is exquisitely composed and carefully lit, with the earthy palette and side lighting of an old masters' painting.
My hands are itching to write, to draw, and my mind is hungry to consume and create. And so it goes.