Having finished one manuscript and having sent that off for consideration I now have a sort of frenzied feeling about what to work on next. I’ve settled on finishing The Winter Garden next, as it’s easy to work on on the go, although I’m thinking rather than one long poem about the last greenhouse on earth it’ll be made up of several apocalyptic poems. I don’t want to stretch that core poem past the boundaries of it being interesting.
However I could also stop trying to finish things for a little while. I have a trip coming up in two weeks that could use some planning, a long list of errands, and I am sore. Time spent writing right now could be easily and probably very well spent stretching.
I don’t know about other writers and artists, but on me making stuff takes a physical toll. Sometimes it’s sleeplessness. Sometimes it’s eye strain. Sometimes it’s neck and arm pain. Sometimes it’s full back pain. Sometimes it’s just the cumulative effects of long periods of time spent neglecting little aches and pains and not making time for other activities.
When I am feeling motivated and inspired as I am now it’s hard to give up a half hour of writing for a half hour of stretching. I am not the kind of person who finds stretching intrinsically rewarding. And it’s not just that I’m not stretching, it’s that I’m typing on my phone which is hard on my arms neck and back. Writing also effects my legs—I have a habit of twisting my right leg into uncomfortable positions that are hard on my knee and ankle when I’m writing.
In May I really wrecked myself working on a piece of embroidery, I wanted to write a series of polished blogs over the course of the month reflecting on the third anniversary of Magyarázni being out and the first since my dad had passed and presenting these thematically relevant crafts I made along the way. What I ended up doing was finishing the craft just as May turned to June and I never wrote a blog post about it. It was so hard on my body I went for a massage and the massage therapist waited for me in the hall after to insist that I must take up doing yoga every day given the state I was in.
I find I don’t really maintain a realistic view of how much I’m getting done. I just finished a project but feel like I must finish another. Maybe what I really need is to slow down a little and stretch my arms and back and neck and legs and feet out. When my arm hurts a lot writing hurts too. Maybe I can trick myself into thinking of stretching as part of my art practice in order to stick to doing it regularly. Though I guess that’s not really a trick.