Happy 2014. I’m happy here blogging after a long absence.
I did it to myself. I gave myself little to no time to write, post, or read over the past six months. Why eliminate my passion, what I enjoy most in life? What about Pound Cake? Will my next book ever get written? Sadly, where I once used research and reading and writing and staying in tune with all of my blog buddies for relaxation, I recently discovered the addictive false high of Candy Crush, Bingo Blitz and reality TV, and have indulged at every and any idle moment.
Writing is not like exactly like riding a bike. You never forget how to use language, but the less you read, write, participate in discussions, the more you have to ramp up to get back in the groove. As you can see, I’m trying to ramp up now. I proclaimed creative progress as my goal all week; and now, on Friday, I struggle to run my wobbly bald tires up the wooden plank to take a high jump. Before it’s too late.
Harry Chapin at Veterans Memorial Auditorium (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Happy 2013, Everyone –
So far things are going well in my world. I finished editing the manuscript for A Girl From the Hill, and I’m putting some final touches on it. I’ve gotten help from some great people and am feeling very grateful.
So why the frown? Not really a frown, just a little melancholy and reflective. On the way to work this morning, I had my favorite satellite 70s station on and Harry Chapin‘s Taxi came on. I haven’t heard this song in years. It always moved me. First as a girl growing up in the 70’s and not even understanding the story, but loving something about it anyway. Maybe his voice, how it changed throughout, or that hauntingly high singing during the bridge. I always wondered if it was a man or woman, and then I saw Chapin perform this song on television one night. A shaggy guy with thick spectacles and an angelic soprano crooned the most haunting lyrics I’ve ever heard. It freaked me out as an eight year old, and still does a little today as I watch this same performance on YouTube 40 years later.
Harry Chapin was an amazing story-teller whose life ended way too early. I felt compelled to look up the lyrics today and read them. His words create such vivid images, both ordinary and fantastic.