Heal Casey progress

I actually did a fair amount of editing last week. I worked on Casey's story every night. I even made a google map, or tried to, of Casey's journey from his birthplace on the reservation in Northern Ontario to our little town in the Niagara Region. Google couldn't handle it. As the only way in or out of the reservation is by air, the Mighty Search Engine was unable to calculate the trip. I was able to estimate the distance to the nearest town and determined the mileage from there. Score one for the human. Score another one for the dog who took a plane, train and car for over 2,000 kilometers to reach us. No wonder he's such a good traveler.

There are just a few more chapters to edit. Then the opening has to be made far more dynamic followed by another read-through and a polish.

Holding myself accountable on this blog does keep me focused and productive. I'm less distracted by,

oh, gorgeous man in chain mail.

What was I doing?

Inspiration

My nephew has being staying up every night writing. Like me, he does it in layers. Unlike me, he's actually writing.

Last weekend was spent with some very creative people in my life - filmmakers, spinners, designers...people who inspire me on many levels. I came home fired up to finish Casey's story. (And to get back to Sturla's Sweater as the sweater book is called) Neither impulse lasted long.

Heal Casey is just in need of polishing edits. So why do I continue to ignore it? Part of the problem is that the story of how he healed my mom and vice versa is no longer true. She isn't healing. She's been going through a really rough patch. Not even Casey's antics can help her at this point. It's hard to revisit optimism and enthusiasm in the face of reality. As that's not going to improve any time soon, I need to suck it up and finish. For the first time in months, Casey is going swimming on Tuesday. I will use his joy to propel the editing process. I promise to check back in here with a progress report.

Stasholic is coming for a visit next week. There will be much wine, wool and more than a few freeze frames of Sturla's Sweater as we enjoy another viewing of Wrath of Gods. It's spectacular. If it doesn't inspire me to hit the keyboard, nothing will.

Labels - not a fan

I mentioned the other day to a friend that I'm not getting along with writing. She suggested I redefine myself - spinner, knitter, caregiver. I didn't like those definitions. For one thing they don't fill my life(okay, maybe the last one does)like writing did and none of them feed my soul. Or pull my brain out through my eyes so perhaps that's not a bad thing.

I'm not a fan of labels. I find them limiting. We're told to claim our identity, embrace it. Own it. I am a writer. I am a knitter/spinner/crocheter/photographer/painter. I am so much more than all of those things. I'm definitely creative but as previous posts would suggest, I don't exactly like to be tied to any one thing. I follow the Muse wherever she may take me.

I'm also reliable and meet deadlines. I can be practical. I have a job that pays me enough that I can indulge my creativity without stressing over whether it will pay the bills.

I'm a tree hugging conservationist. Who happens to love auto racing in its variety of forms.

I love animals but still eat meat (though I'm one of the few chicken-eating vegetarians out there)

As soon as you stick a label on me, regardless of what it is, I feel stifled/confined/restrained by that label. I'm a contrary bitch who will cut off my nose to spite my face(not literally, I'm too vain for that). It doesn't make sense but I've learned that about myself. I'm a rebel at heart. Yet I'm not an anarchist either. Some rules are there for good reason. It's the labels to which I object.

It all started when I was a wee mite in the 60's(ah, yes, that does explain so much) The idea of gender was presented to my young mind as something over which I had no control. I couldn't run around without a shirt because I was a girl. I had to swelter in the heat while my boy friends were FREE. Being a girl didn't seem like as much fun. I didn't want to be a girl(I'm not so sure I wanted to be a boy either but those were the only options presented to me at the time)

This isn't a blog about transgender, it's about labels and the idea to 3 year-old me that I was limited in my abilities because of my gender was the foundation for my hate affair with all labels. It's ridiculous to suggest that because one thing is important to me, or a part of my identity, that another thing can't be as significant.

Okay, yes I am a girl. I do not have a penis, and despite what I told my other 3 year-old friends I did not have one and it fell off. I like being a girl. I liked being a tomboy and climbing trees and wearing dresses and halters and high heels and playing goalie for the road hockey team and being defense on the soccer team and all sorts of other things that had nothing to do with the label of gender.

So while I do think it's important to acknowledge who you are (I am a writer) don't let that limit you in your experience. I'm taking some time to simply experience life instead of recording it. Be who you are. Don't limit yourself. Experience yourself to the fullest.