protecting the writing fortress
Another stunning day in paradise. Researching pesticides and trying desperately to write some thing sounds like me. Writing here (in this blog) is easy, I imagine a friendly audience of people stopping by for a hi. But writing the proposal I imagine stern editors around a table with salesmen and PR girls, discussing the selling points and downfalls of my most personal thoughts and feelings and work.
Sigh. I’m needing to banish them. Anne L. says to reduce them to mice, put them in a jar and continue on. Someone the other day said they didn’t like my book idea. Meaning, I have to be a lot more careful about who I tell. And why. Not telling for approval, but right now, all I need in this formling stage is support. Great idea, Good progress, Keep going. That’s what I need. So, I’m going to stop diluting, talking about it. One writer friend here even said I didn’t have to tell her at all what my book was about. I sort of did anyway, but it’s only now that I fully appreciate the gesture.
Yesterday I ran into someone who told me that wheatgrass oxygenates the blood so much that cancer can’t survive. “Why don’t they use wheatgrass instead of chemo?” she wondered out loud. “I don’t think it works that well,” I said, a glowing picture of restraint.
But the ocean is embracing and delicious. My friend B and I went swimming the other day and saw big black fishies and the neon-lipped fishies and I saw one that was silver with whiskers. Oh and speaking of which, last night I had the BEST sushi. Oh my melt in my mouth sushi.
Tomorrow is Halloween. I’m going to be a Maui horizon. I have an ocean skirt, a cloud top, and I’ll paint a rainbow over my face and arms. And then go on a cruise to the big parade in Lahaina. Halloween is huge here, a really big festive deal. Boo!
