My days of late have been filled with satisfying sighs from projects completed. Or projects nearly so. Tonight I pulled a package from the mailbox, paper swollen with the moisture that has been falling from the sky. I savored the moment. Pulling the tab of a "priority" cardboard mailer. Releasing contents. Breathing in paper and ink. A book I've been constructing, processing, pulling together over the last several months. I am not worried about proofreading for the moment. I am drinking in the weight of it, the feel of the pages beneath my fingers. I touch it, turn the pages and appreciate its physical form. Faces of my friends from the Kansas Authors Club peek out at me from between the covers which are new and colorful and bold in comparison to previous yearbooks I have published.
It's like the pieces of glass I put together this weekend at a glass fusion pendant workshop by a local artist. It was only two hours, but the act of touching, closing my eyes and visualizing, cutting shapes and stacking glass--making art--was extremely relaxing. It was wonderful to spend a few creative hours outside of my usual realm of words on paper.
And earlier today, in a moment of boldness that has been building for more than a week, I printed my own story on paper. Gasping mid-way through to realize I had reached the bottom of a ream of paper and had no way to finish. Not to be deterred, I searched until I found a stash of paper. Shades of blue and yellow and green -- my manuscript is now unconventionally colorful.
All this as I rushed around the house preparing to leave for a workshop of my own.
Quick review of notes.
Triumphant discovery of pale green paper in the cabinet.
Remembering I had not yet had supper and grabbing two plain tortillas to hold me over.
Still in search of more paper.
Found one sheet each of yellow and gray and hot pink.
Yesterday it was getting to the bottom of a sink of dirty dishes and a pile of laundry in need of folding. The day before it was that book I checked out from the library, the one that captured me so completely I read it from cover to cover in record time.
And the photo album from our trip to England that is so very nearly complete.
The workshop -- the talk I gave this evening -- which I was only 2/3 prepared for up until last night... (I'd given 2/3 of the talk several times before. Only 1/3 of it was new to me.) I finally sat myself down, last minute, and constructed what remained to find that it was more than a talk. Bonus, an article appeared. A publishable article. A nearly complete article. I simply have to decide where to query first.
Nearly simultaneously, I am constructing a query on an altogether different, yet related topic. I crawled into bed early this morning giddy with all the possibilities. Grateful for chamomile tea and its calming quality.
I am filled with satisfaction by this creative life of mine. These projects that fill hours, days, weeks, months, more....