By JC Lynne
Originally posted October 24, 2019
If you haven’t noticed, we’ve got a theme going. I know, show don’t tell, but lately, that hasn’t worked well for me. Some of you are absolutely thrilled with the change of seasons, not me.
Oh sure, I love Halloween. I mean, who doesn’t love costumes and candy. If you don’t, you are a savage.
It’s the smell in the air. The crisp scent of turning leaves sends my mind into a nostalgic spiral. Persephone’s journey back to the underworld seeps into my bones. My body takes on the golden shift of leaves and the drop in night temperatures like a mantle.
I hate it.
To add to this melancholy, this year sees all of the offspring out of the house.
Empty nest is a real thing. Parents, we have rearranged our thought matrix to include, if not prioritize, our progeny. Depending on where you are in the process, it’s been years, possibly decades.
It feels weird to take two steps forward without taking five steps backward.
Don’t get me wrong, The Beard and I have done our job. They are capable of adulting, maybe not as graceful to start, but we’ve given them the tools. Except, I want a commune. Independent, community living with all of the saplings and their respective partners.
I will make do with monthly family dinners.
Here’s the rub, I wrote four books while teaching full time and raising three-plus kids. I cordoned off time because it was a precious resource. Two hours a day in the summer, two hours every Sunday when school was in session.
You Don’t Need A Word Count.
Now the house is empty of humans most days. Only Fintan The Whipping Boy demands attention when I appear to be too focused on work.
I’m barely getting two hundred words a day onto the page.
My brain, unaccustomed to this wide-open space-time, is spinning without traction. The ideas are there. The story is moving. Just not in the word count. GAK.
Asking other launching parents for advice didn’t help. Both April J. Moore and Kerrie Flanagan sold everything and moved. Maybe I’m too much of a cave troll, but that notion hasn’t fired up my inclination to change locales.
I’ve Always Wanted A Pool.
Also, everything I send to The Beard on Zillow causes him a little brain freeze. Apparently, we are supposed to be downsizing. Shrug. That being said, don’t be surprised if I find a camper and take to the road.
On the bright side, the house is mostly clean and I don’t miss the piles of dishes in the sink. Laundry still sucks.
The next move is to finish the damn book.
The Writing Bug 