Sunday afternoon writing scene

Ohio. A snowy Sunday afternoon with temperatures dropping into the teens and an inch or two of accumulation. The sun sets at 5:40pm and the moon is in its final quarter.

With each passing year, the tension becomes more pronounced between the new and the unfinished. More and more, I feel the weight of decision: create new work and pursue fresh ideas—or devote my time, which dwindles by the minute, to refining, completing, and sometimes relitigating my half-finished projects from the past. All those drafts and fragments, the notebooks filled with half-legible scribbles and pages scrawled when waking from a dream—I could spend the rest of my life tending to them.

Perhaps there comes a time to draw a bright line, stuff the past in the trash, and trust these old ideas will live on in whatever comes next. It’d be nice to feel a little lighter, to live free from the muck of stalled manuscripts and half-laid plans. But I’ve learned by now that the clean slate is a fantasy, and the tabula rasa is the domain of zealots.

Meanwhile, the snow outside my window is melting as soon as it piles up, and there might be a lesson here.

BJ Nilsen – Nine Ways to Sunday

Fade to White | Touch, 2005 | Bandcamp
Subscribe
Notify of
guest
0 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Related Reading
August 2, 2020

Normal

Giving up on normal seems like a critical psychic adjustment these days.
February 9, 2022

Slush and Stone

Ohio. The snow is melting quickly, leaving behind a scene like the bleary-eyed aftermath of a really good party.
January 26, 2017

Philosophy Is an Ambulance

Grief can arrive on a gust of wind, a glimpse at a calendar, or a half-heard snippet of conversation on the street.
0
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x
()
x