I’m back to the old pattern again…I wake up early, around 5 am and just lie in bed thinking. These days, it’s always Mama and Daddy I think about - their needs, how best to meet them, and their bleak future and how it will affect all of us. It’s really not a good idea to start the day with such depressing thoughts, but they come, unbidden, and overpower me every time. Eventually, a little voice inside my head starts saying, “Get up and write about it.” Writing is therapy; I know this well. And the best writing isn’t done by the clock; it just happens when the thoughts overtake me. If I don’t get up and start writing right then, one of two things will happen. Either I’ll finally exhaust my poor brain and fall back asleep when it’s time to get up, or, more likely, I’ll finally get sick and tired of lying their depressed and get out of bed. Then, by the time I’ve taken out the dog and started the coffee, the spell will be broken. The elusive words of wisdom will have escaped.
But this morning, Doug punched me in the nose. Oh, he didn’t mean to. In his usual squirming around, his arm flopped over on my side of the bed, and his hand found my face. “Ow!” I said out loud. “Sorry,” he responded. The reverie was broken. But before the thoughts were too far gone, I got up, came in the living room, and grabbed my laptop. So here I sit in my recliner, pounding away at the keyboard, and hoping that Little Bit can hold it a while longer over there in his little crate. I know my time is limited. Soon, Doug will come in the living room. “You haven’t started the coffee yet?” he will ask accusingly. Guilty as charged, I will set aside the laptop and begin the morning routine. After that, the tyranny of the urgent will take over for the rest of the day.
So why is it so hard to get up and start writing? Partly, I think, I am just so darn comfortable lying there in the soft warmth of my bed. But it’s so much deeper than that. It’s that blank page. As every writer knows, the hardest part of writing is getting started. I’ve had all those thoughts zinging around in my head, not all of them related. Somehow, I’ve got to capture one of them and put it down on that blank page. And then I’ve got to capture the rest of them in just the right order and create a coherent paragraph followed by another and another until I’ve created something that a person who doesn’t live inside my brain can understand. It’s like herding cats.
But still, the hard part is knowing where to begin. Once I find a starting point, the words just flow, and my fingers fly across the keyboard in an attempt to keep up. There will be revision, of course, which will result in better organization. Isn’t that all writing really is? Just organizing your thoughts on paper. Ok, on screen. No one uses paper anymore.
This waking-up-early pattern started several years ago while I was still teaching school. I’m sure it had to do with hormonal changes. At that time, I thought about school-related issues, or Sean and his upcoming wedding. Then it was the idea of possibly retiring early and moving to the mountains. Once that was decided, it was planning for our new home and retirement. I’m never short of things to contemplate; my brain doesn’t have an off switch. Sometimes I look at Doug and ask him what he’s thinking. “Nothing,” he usually replies. The response used to make me mad. I wondered what he was hiding. Then I read this book entitled Men are Waffles; Women are Spaghetti. It was the most enlightening self-help book I ever read. Turns out, men really do have empty brains at times – or else they’re thinking about sex and don’t want to admit it. According to the author’s theory, a man’s brain has many separate little compartments, like the surface of a waffle. Some of those little squares are empty. His brain moves from one square to another and can only reside in one square at a time. He doesn’t multitask in his thought life. A woman, on the other hand, is like spaghetti, her thoughts a tangled mass. There is no empty space. A woman’s mind is always busy, jumping easily from one thought to the next as all of them are associated in one way or another. A woman multitasks.
Well, I just heard the flush of the commode, so it’s time to make coffee. I’ll pick up on this later.
Saturday, November 05, 2011
Thursday, September 01, 2011
Three years later...
It’s been a while since I’ve updated this blog. Retirement has taken a few unexpected twists since I first began this new stage of life.
It’s been three years and three months now. Do I love retirement? I’ll let you know when I do, in fact, retire! I’m still working; it’s just that most of it is unpaid work. However, I’ve just begun a part-job that actually does pay, though I am yet to receive my first check.
When we first moved up here, I tried to find part-time work as a writer, since I had already done some writing while still living in Georgia. I went to both the local newspapers and was told they could not afford to pay any new writers. One paper, however, The Smoky Mountain Sentinel, was willing to publish a column on a weekly basis as long as I did it for free. I started writing “Somewhere in the Middle,” a political commentary that appeared between two other editorial columns by different writers entitled “Leaning Left” and “Reclining Right.” It was a cool concept, and I got LOTS of positive feedback from readers. I was willing to start writing the column for free because I had something I wanted to say, and I really hoped the publisher would appreciate my work so much he would eventually be willing to pay for it. That did not happen. I was spending HOURS each week researching and gathering information for my column. Once I had basically fulfilled my mission of educating people on the perilous condition of our economy, the column became more work than it was worth, which, apparently, was zero. I again approached the publisher and asked for a mere $15 per column and was told sorry, but no can do. At this point I decided that my hard work and my writing were worth something, and I wasn’t going to give it away anymore, so I quit. The next year I spent what free time I had concentrating on my painting. I even stopped blogging.
Then one day a friend of mine who worked for the other newspaper, The Clay County Progress, told me that her publisher might hire someone to cover local government meetings. She knew I loved to write and had taught government, so she thought the job might be right up my alley. I told her I would be interested. She said she would tell Becky, the publisher, and that she would probably call me later on. Several weeks went by and I heard nothing from anyone. Then one day, Doug and I attended the Festival on the Square in Hayesville, and we ran into my friend from the paper. Brenda told me that their main staff writer was leaving soon, and that they would be looking for someone to replace her. Brenda talked to Becky about me, but told Becky that I would probably not be interested in a full-time position because of my parents. (Besides that, I really did not want to come out of retirement completely. I like it too much, and I’ve gotten used to the freedom.) Becky told Brenda that she was considering replacing her staff writer with part-time, work-from-home help. Brenda thought it would be perfect for me, and I was definitely interested. I made an appointment to see Becky and took samples of my writing. She really seemed to like it. The only problem was, the more she talked about the job, the more involved it seemed. She not only wanted me to cover government meetings, but write at least two other feature articles each week. Sometimes she would assign me topics, but mostly I would have to seek out subjects to write on myself. I would also come into work for a full day each Monday and meet with her another day of the week to go over topics for the next week’s paper. She estimated I would spend around 24 hours a week, but knowing me, I would have spent longer. Becky ended the interview by telling me she had about four other people to talk to about the job, and that it would be at least two weeks before I would hear back from her. I went home and PRAYED for guidance, not sure whether I could handle the job or not. I finally decided that if it was offered to me, I would try it. After all, I could always quit.
Two weeks went by. I heard through a mutual friend that it was between me and one other person. I honestly didn’t know whether I was hoping to get it or not. Two and a half weeks later, I still hadn’t heard anything. I went to Mama’s to clean her house, and that day it seemed she and Daddy needed far more help than usual with everything. I came home hours later and told Doug that I really did not think I could handle working 24+ hours a week and Mama and Daddy, too. They needed MORE of my help, not less of it, and it would only get worse with time. Even if I could, there would be no time at all for painting, and I didn’t want to give that up. I’d already waited most of my life to have time to pursue my love for art. Besides that, I had two houses and a yard to keep up – and a garden. And I wanted time to visit my grandbaby. I told Doug I would contact Becky and tell her I was withdrawing my application. I figured she might have already hired the other person anyway. I sent Becky an email that day and felt relieved afterwards.
The next day I got a message from Becky telling me she was so sorry because she had planned to contact me that day offering the job! She did understand, however, as she had cared for her own mother until she died the previous year. I told Becky I really felt like God had kept her from calling me until I understood what I needed to do. She then asked me if I would consider ONLY covering the government meetings. I agreed to do that and believe that it all worked out for the best. Mama was relieved to know I wouldn’t be much busier than I already am.
So this past Tuesday I began my new career as a reporter for the Clay County Progress by covering a public forum on the construction of solar farms throughout the county. If you are not familiar with these, they are areas of about an acre covered with many large blue solar panels mounted on silver frames standing in a field of gravel and surrounded by a chain-link fence. They harvest the sun’s energy, thus the name “farm.” That energy is then sold to the local power company. So far, four have been constructed in the county and permits have been issued for seven more. Because of a lack of zoning, a farm can be built just about anywhere outside of town. As you can well imagine, people are irate about having one built on their adjoining property! Many people consider them an eyesore, destroying the natural beauty of these mountains where the main industry is tourism. There had been so much complaint, the Board of Commissioners called a special meeting to allow the public to voice their opinion about declaring a moratorium on issuing any more permits.
The meeting drew around sixty people who, for an hour and a half, voiced passionately-held opinions on the topic, both for and against. It was fascinating! I sat there scribbling notes furiously and came home that evening to type a rough draft, which I sent off to Becky last night. I’m still waiting to hear back from her. I cover another meeting tonight when they vote on the moratorium.
I got so interested in the whole solar farm issue that I volunteered to write another article on solar energy, since there is still so much people don’t know about it. That includes me, so off to the Net I go to do research! So far, I think I am going to enjoy this. I guess I am now partially, or mostly retired. I’ll keep you posted.
It’s been three years and three months now. Do I love retirement? I’ll let you know when I do, in fact, retire! I’m still working; it’s just that most of it is unpaid work. However, I’ve just begun a part-job that actually does pay, though I am yet to receive my first check.
When we first moved up here, I tried to find part-time work as a writer, since I had already done some writing while still living in Georgia. I went to both the local newspapers and was told they could not afford to pay any new writers. One paper, however, The Smoky Mountain Sentinel, was willing to publish a column on a weekly basis as long as I did it for free. I started writing “Somewhere in the Middle,” a political commentary that appeared between two other editorial columns by different writers entitled “Leaning Left” and “Reclining Right.” It was a cool concept, and I got LOTS of positive feedback from readers. I was willing to start writing the column for free because I had something I wanted to say, and I really hoped the publisher would appreciate my work so much he would eventually be willing to pay for it. That did not happen. I was spending HOURS each week researching and gathering information for my column. Once I had basically fulfilled my mission of educating people on the perilous condition of our economy, the column became more work than it was worth, which, apparently, was zero. I again approached the publisher and asked for a mere $15 per column and was told sorry, but no can do. At this point I decided that my hard work and my writing were worth something, and I wasn’t going to give it away anymore, so I quit. The next year I spent what free time I had concentrating on my painting. I even stopped blogging.
Then one day a friend of mine who worked for the other newspaper, The Clay County Progress, told me that her publisher might hire someone to cover local government meetings. She knew I loved to write and had taught government, so she thought the job might be right up my alley. I told her I would be interested. She said she would tell Becky, the publisher, and that she would probably call me later on. Several weeks went by and I heard nothing from anyone. Then one day, Doug and I attended the Festival on the Square in Hayesville, and we ran into my friend from the paper. Brenda told me that their main staff writer was leaving soon, and that they would be looking for someone to replace her. Brenda talked to Becky about me, but told Becky that I would probably not be interested in a full-time position because of my parents. (Besides that, I really did not want to come out of retirement completely. I like it too much, and I’ve gotten used to the freedom.) Becky told Brenda that she was considering replacing her staff writer with part-time, work-from-home help. Brenda thought it would be perfect for me, and I was definitely interested. I made an appointment to see Becky and took samples of my writing. She really seemed to like it. The only problem was, the more she talked about the job, the more involved it seemed. She not only wanted me to cover government meetings, but write at least two other feature articles each week. Sometimes she would assign me topics, but mostly I would have to seek out subjects to write on myself. I would also come into work for a full day each Monday and meet with her another day of the week to go over topics for the next week’s paper. She estimated I would spend around 24 hours a week, but knowing me, I would have spent longer. Becky ended the interview by telling me she had about four other people to talk to about the job, and that it would be at least two weeks before I would hear back from her. I went home and PRAYED for guidance, not sure whether I could handle the job or not. I finally decided that if it was offered to me, I would try it. After all, I could always quit.
Two weeks went by. I heard through a mutual friend that it was between me and one other person. I honestly didn’t know whether I was hoping to get it or not. Two and a half weeks later, I still hadn’t heard anything. I went to Mama’s to clean her house, and that day it seemed she and Daddy needed far more help than usual with everything. I came home hours later and told Doug that I really did not think I could handle working 24+ hours a week and Mama and Daddy, too. They needed MORE of my help, not less of it, and it would only get worse with time. Even if I could, there would be no time at all for painting, and I didn’t want to give that up. I’d already waited most of my life to have time to pursue my love for art. Besides that, I had two houses and a yard to keep up – and a garden. And I wanted time to visit my grandbaby. I told Doug I would contact Becky and tell her I was withdrawing my application. I figured she might have already hired the other person anyway. I sent Becky an email that day and felt relieved afterwards.
The next day I got a message from Becky telling me she was so sorry because she had planned to contact me that day offering the job! She did understand, however, as she had cared for her own mother until she died the previous year. I told Becky I really felt like God had kept her from calling me until I understood what I needed to do. She then asked me if I would consider ONLY covering the government meetings. I agreed to do that and believe that it all worked out for the best. Mama was relieved to know I wouldn’t be much busier than I already am.
So this past Tuesday I began my new career as a reporter for the Clay County Progress by covering a public forum on the construction of solar farms throughout the county. If you are not familiar with these, they are areas of about an acre covered with many large blue solar panels mounted on silver frames standing in a field of gravel and surrounded by a chain-link fence. They harvest the sun’s energy, thus the name “farm.” That energy is then sold to the local power company. So far, four have been constructed in the county and permits have been issued for seven more. Because of a lack of zoning, a farm can be built just about anywhere outside of town. As you can well imagine, people are irate about having one built on their adjoining property! Many people consider them an eyesore, destroying the natural beauty of these mountains where the main industry is tourism. There had been so much complaint, the Board of Commissioners called a special meeting to allow the public to voice their opinion about declaring a moratorium on issuing any more permits.
The meeting drew around sixty people who, for an hour and a half, voiced passionately-held opinions on the topic, both for and against. It was fascinating! I sat there scribbling notes furiously and came home that evening to type a rough draft, which I sent off to Becky last night. I’m still waiting to hear back from her. I cover another meeting tonight when they vote on the moratorium.
I got so interested in the whole solar farm issue that I volunteered to write another article on solar energy, since there is still so much people don’t know about it. That includes me, so off to the Net I go to do research! So far, I think I am going to enjoy this. I guess I am now partially, or mostly retired. I’ll keep you posted.
Thursday, January 06, 2011
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