Finding a Place to Land
Yep. I know it's been a while since my last update. After a dizzying series of visits to Tulsa in search of the perfect domicile, I am back at square one. It's disheartening when you've put in so much time and effort and everything even remotely possible has vanished or slipped away, or you didn't have enough money, or didn't like it, or whatever...
The relocation thing has definitely taken a toll on my business and writing life, but I did finally get in a good developmental session with my new project. After picking up Téa Obreht's The Tiger's Wife once more and hoping to finish it this time, I am struck by how amazing a young writer she is.
The gift of language isn't taught; it is merely honed an cultivated. I'm convinced true literary greatness comes from the soul, and the greatest of it must be inherited by some divine birthright. Whether that literary greatness ever comes to complete fruition or success is another matter altogether, one in which I am still currently embroiled.
After four inexplicable manuscript losses at agencies, my manuscript still has only been read by one agent, who highly praised it and asked to see more work in the future, work that is more along the lines of magical realism. This new project, I suspect, may end up being that--even though the initial opening written during last year's NaNoWriMo quickly turned into a fantastical sort of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon kind of thing. Drawing it back to earth will be interesting.
Playing around with the narrative structure is fun, and this will be an interesting exploration of third person multiple POV, with flashes back and into a first person present storyline, much like Obreht's first novel.
Non-writing and writing friends alike are stymied by this strange blockade to my manuscript. Gremlins, perhaps, spiriting away electronic files and erasing to-do lists from agents' memories? At this point, I'm not ruling out anything.
One thing is certain, though. I know that the race is won by those who persevere. And twelve years of personal suffering before healing has taught me how to persevere. I will finish this race well.
My Own Private Tuscany
The past week has been a roller-coaster ride. After a long weekend in Tulsa, searching for properties that were appropriate for my sensitivities, we finally decided to put in an offer on a parcel of land I'd had my eye on for over a year.
And wouldn't you know it, the very weekend we decided we finally wanted to take the plunge, several other interested buyers came out of the woodwork and challenged our bid. We lost.
Yes, we're disappointed, because I had essentially stopped looking at properties for the past year because I was so sure God had appointed this parcel to be ours, in His time. And now that the time has come to finally move, the promised land is no longer in sight. It seems a hazy vision on the distant horizon, a faraway land of half-remembered dreams, people, and places.
The still, small voice inside is quiet for now, except for the ongoing refrain to "be still and know that I am God."
There is uncertainty, to be sure, but there is little anxiety. Sure, it's frustrating, but there is always hope for the future. I dream of a house on the rolling hills of Tuscany, where the golden fields shine like liquid honey in the warm afternoon light, and the soft Tuscan breeze, pungent with a hint of herbs and juniper, dances across my face like the caress of a lover.
We will find our sanctuary, somewhere in the middle of an oil and gas boom town. It's ironic, I know. But the trees still whisper good things, peaceful things out there. Havens of rest still exist up there, even so close to a metropolitan area. I have to believe it's possible. Or that God will make it possible soon.
2013 is the year of miracles. I can't wait to see what this one's going to look like.
