Under the Wire: November Writing Retreat, Celtic New Year’s style

Insecure Writers’ Support Group [IWSG] Corner

November 5th 2014 weather anomaly Eastern/Central U.S. CA basks in eternal sunshine, map
©NOAA

Many times this eventful year, I have longed for time/space to write—at least a few lines at my leisure—within my comfort zone. Events have a way of redirecting our otherwise good intentions, don’t they?

So far, 2014 has been short on leisure.

November heralds Celtic New Year and I’m no farther forward than last Samhainn.

Astrochart for now: 11:11p.m. EDT 11/05/14 Saturn leads pack of Starhounds to Orion’s chase

And, now that fall is well and truly here, my writerly output—like my garden shed—is showing its leaks!

Driving our Engines into the Ground
It’s not that we writers aren’t driven to distraction by our need to put graphite to tree pulp; extract or express some primeval desire hidden in the God-given Word; even one in our own God-driven engine-mind. I have known a fellow scribe who went into catatonia for a fortnight—today we call it ‘withdrawal’ or ‘having a bad hair day’—because she couldn’t find her high school propelling pencil.

Like losing a cell phone or iPod, our sudden disconnection fuels our dependency.

Change of season usually alters our work pattern, anyway. Deep inside, we must be akin to swallows, electromagnetically programmed to changing home base. Bureaucratic daylight manipulation makes it worse: disturbs our brain and sleep patterns, resulting in near-writer’s block.

Heaven forbid. I hope my mind hasn’t also flown the coop, along with my summer projects.

All Fall In

Rainstorms bring water, turn grass green again

If I’m honest, this is the time when I sometimes admit defeat, float around in ‘can’t cope’ mode for a day or two with the change in weather, or, paradoxically, don ‘wellies’ (Wellington boots, rain gear), grab a pair of lethal secateurs and get forceful with a blackberry root.

Needless to say, I’ve found the culprit: something I can blame. It’s easier to point a finger at retrograde Neptune, floundering in his own exalted sign of Pisces, or beg deathstar Pluto to release his vice-like grip on his fellow planet, Mars conjunct in restrictive structure-driven Capricorn! The ancient SeaGoat rises from the waters to vanquish all malingerers…

Under the Wire
We are, I do believe, supremely grateful for excess H20 which fell from the heavens just in time to save us from a fiery death by 2014 heatwave. Water saved us from our (continuing) careless treatment of our planetary home.

It’s mot for me to criticize. William McDonough’s Cradle to Cradle has shown us the way for a decade. We are still playing games with water. I merely add my comment—and gratitude. And pray that fewer hours of light may bring me time to relax, allow me to retreat into inner worlds.

And thanks Alex, as always, for doing what you do.
Dragon of the Stars, indeed. 🙂
©2014 Marian Youngblood