This is not what I expected

Funny how this year has turned out.

Expected to have a book deal for my novel by now. Don't. But did finish a second book just a week ago, seemingly by accident through the lonely fight, the rough spots, the sorrow and joy.

Not just a book. A great book.

Dreamed of the ocean all year. All year the solemn hush and crash of waves - a recording on CD - sustained me, soothed me, inspired me. Listened to that CD for hours, weeks, months. And now I'm here. Freelance writer, living by the sea. Writing. Always writing.

This is success, right here and right now.

Showering with butterflies

I've moved back to the woods, where I shower with butterflies. (They are greedy with the soap). I fall asleep to the sound of banjo frogs and cicadas. And sometimes wake in the middle of the night to the wild noises of bard owls mating.

Being here in a beautiful space...surrounded by nature's inspiration...in a community of artists and mavericks...with a housemate who is artistic, conscious, and funny: all of it is one step closer to the vibe of my ocean home.

I'm also flirting more, connecting more, and just generally loving life more. All of this is sexy (take that, you horny owls!). To me and to others. I'm anticipating a date this week with a gorgeous, unconventional guy.

And writing. Of course. It's my first, my last, my everything. To quote the great master Barry White. It's who I am. End of story. Ha! So how am I doing in this arena? More and more freelance clients. Just submitted a short story and am finishing up another. Waiting oh so patiently as my book makes the rounds.

Longings

"If she satisfied her longings they would by definition not be longings anymore. By living out the things she wished, there would only be possible failure. She feared failure even more than continuing to harbor unsatisfied longings. So it seemed quite clear that the only courageous thing to do was act on her desires."

- Louise Erdrich, Tales of Burning Love

I adore Louise Erdrich. I re-read these words today and they gave me a delicious jolt.

Look at me

That's what this cardinal seems to be saying. Look at me. How can you miss me with this fabulous red coat on? These sexy guys are all over the woods where I'm staying. In fact, all kinds of funky animal friends are busting out in the woods: big spiders, a bullfrog, owls, hawks, deer.

This cool little North Carolina vortex of life is helping me bust out some words and art, too. My creativity is off the charts right now.

Look at me. Not the cardinal! Me, the writer. If you've ever wondered what it's like to live straight from your gut, this is it, baby. It's all magic, all the time.

Sometimes magic can hurt. Just saying! But if you've been reading my blog (and if you haven't, you can always catch up in the archive!) you know the tasty secret: the pain is outpaced by the pleasure.

Generation ?

The other day I followed a trail of blog links and found myself engrossed in a forest of blogs written by 20-somethings.

Nothing against our Gen Y friends. It's just that reading their stuff drives home the point that I'm a person who may have hit her technology wall at the iPod. I got one, couldn't make it work. Gave it to my twenty-something brother. I'll take my eight-tracks, I mean CDs, thank you.

I'm not on Facebook, MySpace, or Twitter, or Flickr...don't own an iPad, iPhone, or e-reader. I'm sure that one day, as a wildly successful author, I will need more of a social media presence. I can see the allure of Twitter...it's like daily poetry. Poetry rocks.

But maybe I'll just get an intern to do it.

Back to the blogs. Rambling, hip, unfocused streams of consciousness fueled by whopping cups of extra-tall vanilla hazelnut espresso-shot latte, Lady Gaga, and the mad energy of living with five roommates. Or whatever. Energy drinks and pizza. One in particular was really funny, talking about her vagina like it was a fashionable girlfriend who lived in New York City. She had a gazillion followers and all the comments went something like this:

Follower: OMG that last post was so ON! i luv ur blog!!!!! xoxoxo LOL
Blog Girl: No, i luv UR blog!!!!!!
Follower: No, i luv {{{UR}}} blog! it TOTALLY KICKS ASS, when i graduate from high school i want to BE U.

And so on.

I can't help but wonder (shades of Carrie Bradshaw...I'm such a 30-something...) :

Does a flippant blog about your vagina make you hip and popular?

TTYL.

Can a man and woman be friends? part two

A snippet of conversation with another male friend...

Me: Are we friends?

Him: Yes. But if you were my wife, I wouldn't be able to help myself. When you walked in the door at night, I'd rip your clothes off and roll you around on the floor. If the door was still open and the neighbors happened to walk by, hell, I'd just kick it shut with my foot. I wouldn't stop for anything.

Me: Wow. Even if I were wearing these chickenshit boots? (I am housesitting for a friend who has chickens and, well...)

Him: When you've got it, it can't be covered up, woman.

Writer

To be a writer is to be hungry for words, like some people yearn for a steak or sex or a hot bath or a hot girl or a long vacation. I want to bathe in words. Words have always been my solace, my cross, my love, my talent.

I was invited to go dance at a gay bar tonight but instead I find myself here, writing.

A kick in the pants from afar

"Okay, lady, when's your next entry?" wrote my friend, giving me an email kick in the pants from New York City. Yeah, where the hell IS it? Could it be...

1. I am wary of the blog, circling the adversary like an ancient warrior, figuring out my next move.

How do my blog and book fit together? Does the blog replace the familiar paper journal I write in every day? How often am I to blog?

2. I am busy being inspired. Who has time to blog when I need to watch Dead Poets Society again? What a gem of a movie. Boys chasing dreams and letting the humble heart - and grand poetry - be their guide. Yum. Carpe diem! Sounding a barbaric YAWP!

And you have to admit, Lindsey Vonn's warrior skiing was absolutely killer. Her power and determination were wonderful to behold. Getting my book published is my women's downhill.

3. My mother read my blog and said: "you sound like a mixture of Terry McMillan and Erica Jong." I didn't know what to make of that. Is that something I want? Well, ok: assertive, sexy, unconventional women doing what they please and writing about it. Yeah, I'm down with that. Or could it be...

4. I am scared shitless about going to Mexico.

But hold up. February 14 - the day of my blog launch, Valentine's Day - was also the start of the Lunar New Year. It's the Year of the Tiger. And a Tiger person is just who I happen to be. A fact gleaned from countless Chinese restaurant placemats! Tiger people are courageous and outrageous, going for the gusto and - to take a page from the Dead Poets - sucking the marrow out of life.

When the little voice says don't you think you could just go back?, I just turn the Gov't Mule up a bit louder.

Scared? Oh, fuck, no. Fearless.