Yo-yoing

I look out my typical library window this morning to be greeted by a white landscape.  Colors are muted and few.  Random orange-brown leaves cling to occasional trees, and a yellow hydrant can be seen in the distance.  Even the cars passing on the nearby street  lack color beyond the gray of dirty snow or the white of excessive salt.  The sky is overcast.  I cannot distinguish individual clouds, it just seems one large white expanse overhead.  It was snowing this morning, but then turned to rain, and now no moisture falls.  It is cold and foreboding.

Only a short two weeks ago, it felt like spring - a false spring, no doubt, in the middle of January, but spring-like all the same.  It was warm and inviting.  Even when the rain fell, it fell from clouds riding in deep blue skies.  Being outside made me smile, not grimace.  I feel so hopeful in spring, so ready for the change in weather and circumstance.  I was sorry to see it end, even though I knew it would, knew that it was merely a hint at things to come not the actual time itself.

As I see the forecast for the coming week, we are in for more of the same - not snow, but winter to spring and back again.  I will relish the respite, however short lived.

My writing has mimicked the weather in this on again off again way - not the writing itself but how and what I write.  When I finished writing my first book, I had to ask myself, "What's next?"  After  created and then rejecting several novel ideas, I came upon one I liked, one that I wanted to own, one I wanted to read.  So, I began to write it.  But at times the idea seemed bigger than my abilities.  I wanted to do it justice and was fearful that I would not.

A different day, flipping through my notebook, I rediscovered an idea from a year ago. It caught my imagination.  Maybe I could write this story.  Where the other is emotionally driven, this one is adventure driven.  I felt confident about writing it, and letting the adventure take root and bloom in my mind.

And yet . . .   I have been writing this story, but the other day as I geared up to write on it further, I felt more of the emotional literature about me, and I desired to write freely from the heart.  So, I switched back to the first story, to once again write with great feeling.

Unorthodox is what comes to mind!  How can you write and be wedded to two stories at one time. I can't even read two books at the same time!  But somehow, this is working for me.  I choose which book to work on depending on my mood, my feel for the day.  I know this will take longer to produce a book, but in reality, when I'm done, I'll have two books.  I suspect at some point, one story will win out and monopolize my soul, but until then . . . it's neck and neck.