Not working, but writing

My friend, who was the accountant for a publishing company in Ireland for many years, asked me if I was still writing today, when I called her. “Sometimes,” I said. And then she suggested I turn the heron stories into a book. And I started writing, and I wrote 3000 words, about my mother, and the heron, and her dying, and I am thinking of a kind of writing that is both fiction and memoir, where there are no boundaries between the two, where what is fact and what is my imagined reconstruction blur together. It will be fiction; it begins with fiction, but it is truth too. Oh, if only I had faith that I might finish it.

“You’re not working this summer,” my longest-time friend tells me. “You’re writing. I’ll be harassing you about it. You can expect it.”

I am working, but teaching only one class. I will write. I will set a word minimum number a day, and I will write.

2 responses to “Not working, but writing

  1. Yes! I hope you will!
    Stella

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s