I woke up this morning with a book in my brain. I’m sad and short of sleep (read, not able to sleep much), and there’s a sense of sorrow that I’m carrying around, a kind of tiredness of spirit. Writing at the moment feels like lighting a candle and warming my hands at it, or a small fire. I can sit and stare into it and all the things that are aching recede. I’ve been talking to a lot of people lately about where to start and which book to work on first, and I’d settled on the plan of a small collection of poems, paintings, and essays about suicide. This morning I woke up with my whole alternative framework for understanding and working with multiplicity in my mind instead. A friend had expressed encouragement for that one a few days ago and it seems that’s the fire that wanted to light. Maybe there’s a little too much grief going on for me at the moment to work on the other.
So I’ve been putting together a framework, drawing partly upon things I’ve already written here on this blog, and talks I’ve given, but sewing it all together into something coherent and sequenced. I think people are going to find it much easier to follow than skipping from blog post to post. I’m still debating about whether to include a section on multiplicity crisis support, or keep this for more general principles and stories about engaging multiplicity. I don’t want to make it ridiculously long and detailed, but I do like to read things that are thorough and well thought out. Hard calls. I have a bunch of people keen to read a draft which is very exciting, and I’ve got an appointment booked on Friday with a friend to review the planned structure.
I had to interrupt the flow this afternoon to head off to be part of a reference group, supporting the development of sexual health training for mental health workers. Unfortunately in that time another 3 books turned up in my head and tried to write themselves. o.O True multiple style, sigh! So I’ve drafted some notes about them to put to one side for now. The timing is a little frustrating, I want to get my studio running and the last of my paperwork sorted. But I’m not about to argue, the impulse is there, the joy, that hint of obsession, my brain writing and re writing things while I’m trying to concentrate on other tasks. Might as well run with it.
Now I’m off to cook dinner for Rose who has done a stellar job at her first day at work. I’m making creamy lemon chicken pasta and there’s leftover peach cobbler from the other night. Life goes on.