By Mary Anna Violi | @Mary Anna Violi
A kind friend made reference the other day to my lack of blog postings lately. When I shared the reason with her, she understood, but gently chided me about the need to post on my blog site. Taking her well-meant comment to heart, I will now share the reason for the paucity of blog postings lately: Since early December I have been at work on writing a second novel.
What happened to the first novel? You may ask and I will tell you: I’m still re-tooling that one. In mid-November I was talking with my daughter and with a friend about a true episode in my life. They were howling with laughter over it, well our friend was; my daughter was rather jarred by the story. Nonetheless, for days after our weekend talk fest, I could not shake the episode from my mind. Around the first of December, I sat down at my Mac and began by penning the outline of what would become a novel. While I have deviated from aspects of the original outline, the basic story structure has remained essentially the same.
I work full-time. After work I usually come home, feed Fellini and Coco Chanel, change into comfy clothes, and write. On the weekends, I wedge myself out of the house to replenish groceries from Whole Foods [a most relaxing, uplifting environment with terrific samples of yummies], return home and write. I am unable to shake this novel from my head. It stays with me night and day. While at work, I am focused on work, on my teaching, on making sure I do right by my students, of course, but in-between times, my book never stops swirling in my mind. It was the same as I wrote and re-wrote the first novel yet to be published.
What I have learned from my hundreds and hundreds of pages of written narrative is that when the writing muse beckons, I answer. Those four snow days we had in January when the university shut down, I embraced them. It was nothing short of luxurious to have that uninterrupted time to write and grapple with dialogue, characters, plot, and all the marvelous dimensions of writing that one does primarily for oneself because no book is a sure bet. Another writing opportunity arose in regard to Shakespeare’s 450th anniversary, which I found too good to pass up. I penned an essay, re-worked it, submitted it, and just finished the edits on it for the editor. That too was a labor of love, for I adore Shakespeare and I am grateful for the opportunity to share my essay.
This has, in short, been the winter not of discontent, although this Midwest winter could certainly qualify as such, rather it has been the winter of inspiration and golden writing opportunities that I am compelled to seize and act upon, and I do so happily.
And so I charge you readers to stay warm, be of good health, and know that I shall post regularly henceforth.
Ciao for now.