Time and Light Switches

I started keeping a journal when I was 18, kept the same notebook through the end of the year 2019. I wanted to process and keep track of all the marvellous and terrible things that were occurring. I was living three days inside every spin of the earth, morning noon and night, each spread out like the vast expanse of… something. I didn’t start keeping a journal because I thought it would do anything, I started writing it all down because I didn’t want to forget. It was a glorious and exciting, and heavy time, it was a lot and I didn’t want to forget it. Now the most I remember is the nights I sat, with only a glow of light, and poured my thoughts and memories into the pages of that notebook. I remember the people too of course, and the love and wonder, but I remember that patch work covered notebook best.   I had a migraine yesterday. It’s been years now, less than it feels, but I still keep a journal and start a new one for each turn about the sun. I’m not sure it does much ot...

Well, let’s start this week off with a bang, I’ve been writing a book since March and I am making my best attempt to finish it by June. The first draft that is. And so far so good, it's the fastest I’ve ever had a story come together and the easiest flow to stay in. I’m just passing the 25,000 word mark this week and it feels great.   I don’t know how to talk much about the creative process outside of my book writing because in all honesty its been weeks since I’ve picked up a paintbrush. The simple excuse is that my studio is in the basement and away from the sun and I want desperately to sit in the sun. The acceptable excuse is that I am so invested in my writing I don’t want to stop to paint. The raw uncomfortable excuse is that I don’t really want to paint because it feels like work. I think painting has started to feel high stakes and so I’ve been hiding away in my writing.  All my excuses in tow are varying degrees of understandable, I think I understand digital arti...

This week is about distractions. I’ve been so distracted as of late, getting sucked into tv and then distracted by all the different things I want to do on top of what I’m already doing. I’m in a great flow with writing the first draft of my book, but I find myself wanting to paint. I’m so deep in the creative process and in my own creative garden of ideas that one artistic discipline isn’t feeling like enough. It’s like the stronger I get the greater the weight needs to be to keep me tethered to the ground.   Right now in terms of the book, I’m in the second act of the story. From what I can tell it will be comprised of three acts so I’m a third done. It’s crazy exciting, but talking about it feels like now I’m gonna be held accountable to finish the book. Which despite how intense that feels it’s good for me, I need a little pressure I guess. I also feel like I can’t write fast enough, I’ve gotten to the point where I know clearly where I’m going with this story and I can’t wri...

Well it’s been one of those weeks, where I want more than anything else to create till I can’t see straight, but instead it’s been slow going. It’s interesting because I’m not stumped in terms of where my story is going but it's still a painfully slow progress. I have ideas abounding for paintings but I haven’t been able to bring myself to start one. It’s been a weird week, where I want to create but there’s something that’s getting in the way, something in my head or heart.   I have made some process on the writing, its not like nothing has happened, but it’s just been a bit of a fight to focus and stay tuned into the story. Something about the changing of the seasons and something about the nature of the season of my life has me stumbling around in a fog.  I long to sit and stare at the trees under the watchful gaze of the waking sun. I feel pulled to the sea and to listen to its lessons. I think the restlessness of spring has found me and it distracts me from my contemp...