But,
yes, I was sad – it was all over the blog, and I hated it. I didn’t want that. What I wanted was a space to explore the
collection I had just published. I love
writing, and I love talking about writing,
and being part of conversations where other people talk about
writing. This kind of shit really
excites me. The last thing I wanted was
to feel miserable, to record that - and it all just felt miserable to me. So I scrapped it. I decided to start again. And so here I am – and as for where that is,
it is 4 days away from a small dinner party – very small in fact, just me and
two dear friends - with a menu inspired by the poem You Cannot Tell Me. More on
this very special first dinner very soon.
For now, I am just going to leave this here, a sign of well-adjusted
re-adjustment (furthermore, she’s just lovely, and that is reason enough).
Wednesday, 28 January 2015
I had to re-adjust it
It
wasn’t enough to re-start the blog from where I left off. I
had to re-adjust it; this is why I am beginning from scratch. I spent some time re-reading over some of the
posts, going all the way back to July when I had the idea. I hated what I read. Well, better said, I hated how it sounded. I struggled a lot in 2014. It feels almost selfish to even say it,
because in some ways, 2014 was a wonderful year: I published a book, and this
book took me to Belfast, and Slovenia, and also to Dublin, for readings, and it
was exciting and wonderful and it made me happy, to have achieved this, to have
accomplished this. But I wasn’t prepared for how I was going to
feel about it, once it was all said and done.
This book, full of seven years of my life – of how my heart and body
have behaved these last seven years – is beautiful, to me. Holding it in my hand, when I think about
writing, both the writing that I did to make the book, and the writing that
will come now that the book is finished, it is a reminder that I can do much
when I set my mind, commit my whole body to something. This is exciting to me. But, I felt sad. Because in as much as the book is evidence of
me – stubborn, passionate, uncompromising me – making something happen, I spent
the better part of 2014 wondering about whether or not I was right (or had the
right) to write what I had written, to have published it at all. (I’ve come out of that debate with myself –
and the short answer is, yes, I was right, and I had the right. Yes. Yes.) The
fact that this lady agrees with me helps – it is good to have an ally.
Friday, 16 January 2015
In the beginning, there were onions...
....take two.
Consider this a re-launching of sorts - two birds, 2.0. My goal remains the same - I would like to
make something culinary of Keeping Bees.
But, rather than focus exclusively, at this stage, on trying to get
professionals to work with me to make it happen, I am going to relax a little,
go back to something I did very little of in 2014: making food for people, and being joyful
around a kitchen table. I am also going
to stick more closely to what I said I was going to do with this blog when I
started thinking about food and poems, and food and poems together, and that
is, to create a space where I can write about writing, write about cooking and
write about eating. The key word there
is write, another thing I did very little of in 2014.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)