Quandary

I'm in a quandary. A writer’s quandary.

I have blogs: notice the plural. I’m really good at starting blogs then I abandon them. No, not out of laziness or apathy. It’s actually more of a rebellion against a self-imposed writing box. You see, the title of my blog defines what I should be writing about. However, that very same definition strangles my creativity. I have wonderful things I write about, snippets I’ve captured and want to record for posterity so I can review, from time to time, my growth as a writer. Then I have to stop and think, Hmmm, this isn’t really about my mystery writing so it wouldn’t go in The Zen of Murder. It’s not about herbs or cooking so it wouldn’t go in Herbs, Spices and Tales from My Tiny Kitchen. It’s not ‘serious’ so it wouldn’t go in A Room of Her Own. From time to time I miss my old friends, the blogs I’ve abandoned. It’s not their fault that I’m so fickle and to honor where I’ve been in the past, as well as where I’m going in the future, I’ll link this new blog to them.

So where does it go? That’s my quandary. Where do I put all this stuff rolling around in my head that doesn’t fit in with the limiting titles I created for the aforementioned blogs? Thinking about this led me to realize that I have to acknowledge and work within my own style. That created another set of thinking exercises because I had to figure out what my style was so I could work within it. All I knew for sure to start with was that I write how I’m feeling at any given moment. I’m a pantster. I was looking for an answer and the words ‘mercurial’ and ‘whimsical’ immediately came to mind, as did the chorus from Blowin’ In The Wind.

I decided to simply ‘go with the flow’ and continue to free-associate (OK - doodle words on a blank piece of scrap paper) until I found something that resonated and then free-associate with that thought. ‘Mercurial’ made me think of the weather: probably because to the reference to mercury and it’s really, really hot outside these days. After pondering that for a bit I realized I was getting close to the crux of my style. Weather. Long, lazy days of summer; violent storms with thunder that reverberates inside your spinal cord and bolts of ozone thrown across the sky like neon javelins; a cold shoulder on a warm evening; rain as gentle tears of gratitude; the fogginess of uncertainty…my writing is a reflection of the weather in my soul. But that’s still not quite, well, it. Not quite my style as I perceive it. I’m tossing out whimsical because it’s a descriptor of my style depending on my mood, but it’s definitely not a constant.

Close, so close. Even now more and more of what I’m searching for is becoming clear because I’m writing it out. Hmmm, maybe that should be the title of this blog. Writing It Out. Naaaawwww. That has way too juvenile of a sound to me.

So, to pick back up on my original line of thought. The Weathervane is an all inclusive title. Its circular whirl keeps up with me when I spinning like a top and points strong and true when I’m calm like the eye of a hurricane. ‘The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind.’ Like a weathervane, I can move in any direction and still, will always be home. Ahhhh, there it is. The truth. Direction. I’m in search of my writing ‘home;’ my voice, my truth, my story.

I don’t know about you, but these ‘Ah ha’ moments always leave me emotionally sated and mentally tired.


Until next time,

“I have seen the sea when it is stormy and wild; when it is quiet and serene; when it is dark and moody. And in all its moods, I see myself.” ~ Martin Buxbaum