I've gotten a few emails lately, and sighs of concern from friends who read my blog. Good people wondering if I might be depressed, if I'm okay.
I thought I'd lay things out here, in an incomplete and sketchy way, about the kind of stuff I've been writing lately. And why.
My blog has deviated quite a bit from where it started. In the beginning, I wanted a place to post my fiction. I wanted a url I could point to and say, It's all here. Everything I'm proud of.
Then, once I started, I got caught up in blogging for its own sake. I thought I might like to be a career blogger. I concluded, I can write...I can blog! For a living!
I tried to be amusing. Because I can be. I like to be. In fact, I think you'd find me smiling just as often, if not more, than you'd find me furrowing my brow.
With my blog, I worried too much about stats and clicks and unique visitors and all but forgot the fiction (which has been a pure, unconditional love throughout my life and which does not deserve the cold shoulder).
A few months ago, I turned 40. I think this fact has less to do with my recent brooding than my husband insists. But I'm willing to contend that it may play a small part. I'm pretty sure, and I may be wrong, but I think I'm expressing my angst because, well...there's room for it now.
There's been no room for the past six to seven years. I got married at 32. I got pregnant very, very quickly. I had a hard time being pregnant, both physically and emotionally. Then I had a newborn, who grew into a toddler. And when he was 15 months old, I got pregnant with my daughter.
It's been pregnancy, babyhood and toddlerdom for the past, yeah, 7 years.
I'm not looking for sympathy here, believe me. I know I'm lucky. No fertility issues. A difficult birth for Fruit Bat, who was born blue and had to be resuscitated, but overall healthy children.
I am one, though, who needs a lot of room to think, to question. Rumbling happily and resignedly down a straight path is not in my DNA. Spending the bulk of the past several years in a house with children who rarely let me sit down, much less form a meaningful thought, has been tricky for me.
Now, though, they are both in school. Fruit Bat does full day K. Kitty Cat goes to a sweet preschool 4 mornings a week. And this has opened up a space in me that...that I didn't realize how much I missed.
There has also been the issue of my manuscript, which I've been toiling on and tinkering with since 2000. A handful of agents have it right now. One even sounds semi-serious about representing me, but I'm still waiting for the final word. I get feedback along the lines of, You have a nice style, but I just didn't fall in love with the writing.
If ever there's been more vague and less constructive criticism, I'd like to hear about it.
Anyway, this string of rejections has been ill-timed (as if there would ever be a good time). Coinciding with my newfound space to mull (which I like and I need and I cannot cram into some cubby hole in my brain while I busy myself so much that I won't notice it) and with, I guess, the fact that I'm halfway through my life without a book published yet.
There has, also, been some marital rockiness that is unbloggable, but, I think, understandable given the whirlwind of the past several years.
I've recently been hired to write for a website for moms. (More details on that to come). And they want, from me, the funny parenting stories, the amusing anecdotes. So those have a place there. I don't feel like I have it in me to also do that here.
All Adither, for better or worse, has become more experimental. Perhaps more angsty than it used to be. It has become a forum, again, for my fiction.
I'm really enjoying writing Greener Grass. My traffic has dropped, my comments have slowed. But I'm happier with what I'm posting here.
Half Assed Kitchen, meanwhile, has grown quite a lot. It's my lighthearted spot in which I can be little bit funny and make
a pittance money off the necessity of my spending gobs of time in the kitchen anyway (being a mom and all).
Is All Adither less entertaining than it used to be? Probably. Am I going to twist my observations and thoughts into posts that are quippy and fun? Not here, not now.
This place is what I need it to be. It'll evolve as I do.
And I'm grateful to those of you who've stuck with me through this and those of you who've inquired into the state of my well being.
It means a lot. It truly does.