Depression, Muscles, and "Did My Tooth Just Fall Out?"

Photo by Denny S. Bryce

Orlando, FL, February 2010

My best friend and I were having our semi-monthly Friday lunch. Both of us are in the same industry - making bucks organizing other people’s lives - well, we’re also both over 50 (and my admitting that much is a dead giveaway that I’m clearly more than a bit over!) But yesterday, on our way to lunch, we were in a very cheery frame of mind, laughing about some silly comment I’d made about my day, when something small, white and almost pearly, appeared to fall out of my month. We both paused, looked at each other with a shocked expression on our faces, and I said, “Did my tooth just fall out?”

“Girl, no.” She shook her head, then frowned. “I don’t think so.”

“Shit,” I said. “I know I’m getting old, but Christ, I hope my tooth didn’t just fall out.”

Of course, it wasn’t my tooth. A stone from my dangly, fancy earrings had fallen off. But it’s just been one of those years - or at least the past six months - where my first thoughts immediately jump to the bottom of the list - and if it has to do with my body -- something failing or falling off is expected.

It’s been one of those periods in life when every move is an ache, and the thought of exercising, a sure journey to pain and suffering.

And yeah, I’ve been to the doctor -- we both have -- and we’ve had check-ups, and know the deal so to speak about our respective health issues - but that’s not the point.

We have to face the fact -- we are aging. It’s right there - smacking us in the face (wrinkles and dark circles included), we don’t look the same and we can’t do all of the things we used to do.

But we act and think pretty much the same as we have since we were eighteen years old. (Yeah, this friend of mine and me have been buds practically since high school).

Well, we’ve decided to find time to take better care of ourselves - successful career woman shit aside. I'm exploring exercise plans (‘right, exploring:)...and am getting started with my Saturday by getting on a treadmill.

Then I’m going to spend a week avoiding meat, and watching my salt intake. I read that another good thing to do is to avoid ‘white’ foods - sugar, flour, rice, cheese, if it ain’t showing me color - it ain’t going in my mouth.

What does all of this have to do with writing? You’ve got to have energy to write. I’ve been sitting on my ass for most of every day for the past six months, working. And not all of that time (okay, very little of it) has been spent moving forward fast enough on my novel. So I’m going to put it down for a few weeks and start working on a new story. Just to give myself a break from feeling like I’m not being productive. 

Long way around just to give my self a pep talk, huh? 

Heaven and Hell

This post is about the thing(s) that torture writers. You'd think it was a walk in the park - if you didn't write, you'd swear it wasn't a big deal. Got an idea for a great book? Write it down. Pull out the old sheet of paper and pen or laptop and keyboard and go at it! But for those of us who write, we know the truth about writing. It's all about heaven and hell, and sometimes (oftentimes) more about living in the nine rings of hell then anything else. Okay, I'm in revisions, thus my angst.

But how come so many people on the planet know so much about the pain and agony of giving birth to a manuscript?

What has prompted me to examine this question in all of its highly frustrating denominations? Nothing slight, I guarantee you.

It's a new Meryl Streep movie (check out stage left - facing your monitor). Or it's the fact that the movie is about Julia Child and Julie Powell and what they went through to get their respective books published, and to establish themselves as writers.

Okay, back to my point. Could it be that the writers community has the best PR on the planet. Not only do we know how much we suffer, we know that half the movie-going public also knows and they love to hear, see, or smell something that reeks of failure just before a great success is born.

Now let me state the obvious. Just finished watching Julie & Julia - and enjoyed it immensely. As I watched, I also wondered did everyone in the theater empathize with the main characters in the same spots where I laughed loudly or held back a sob? I think so. Because the general public has been educated by writers (of fiction, television, film, or whatever) about the writer's life in all of its pain and glory.

Why? Because writers of entertainment enjoy sharing their angst. And that's why everyone in the theater during the two hour movie was an aspiring author. They shared the main characters' failure and success, and that's what made the movie so enjoyable for me - the same way a good book is enjoyed - through character. (Okay, recently I was at a writer's convention and told a lie. I said I approach my books from plot. No, I don't. I do think of a situation and then I create characters to dwell in that situation - but I don't always say here's a character and now what am I going to do with him or her. Right now, I'm doing that in REVISION!

Okay, back to the main point of this post - revisions: heaven or hell? I think you know where I stand.