When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
It’s July 13, do you know where your pages are? No beach, outdoor concerts, barbecues, carousels, trips to Paris, Maine, or the Jersey shore. It’s time to buckle down. We are not normal. Personally, I prefer to be by myself for as a long as possible. Inside. I like to see how long I can go without talking. I like to put in my eye drops, pop on my reading glasses, and stare at my screen-mirror-masturbatorium-sandbox-rosary-ghostdance-mask-trojan horse-armor-packing tape-first edition Elizabeth Bishop – and retractable measuring tape.
What kind of summer are you going to have, writing-wise?
Filed under: Uncategorized |
Betsy Lerner 
Quiet and simmering, lights down low and words cooking on the back burner with aroma free steam rising from the pot; it’s just not there.
Maybe the fall?
It’s 4am and I’m on my first sips of coffee, the elixir of writing. I will put in my hour today, same as yesterday, same as tomorrow. I’ll put in my 8.5 hours at work in what’s become the rough end of town, where even the flowers I planted by the front door are routinely plucked out by the roots and trampled, where people come in wild-eyed off the street, looking for water, looking for something less easy to define; the laptops were taken only days ago, along with some granola bars and a toy fire engine we kept under a chair for the patients’ kids. The therapist has a musculoskeletal model of a woman’s pelvis, which was left on the exam table. A joke, or no?
I don’t know about writing. It’s both helpful and pointless, but the scene I left on yesterday’s page is waiting for an ending. I guess I’ll see what happens.
I have almost F’edTF. IT will be a head down in the editing phase sort of summer. And here’s to NOT finding plot holes.
My spring was very writerly. Now I’m just tired.
This summer I’m putting together the timeline. I love ferreting out the small details to add as they remind me of other details I’d forgotten. I really love putting together the timeline and doing the research. Once I have that fleshed out though, the real work begins…
Oh my gosh, I so relate to this. “We are not normal.”