The Crash

It was inevitable… the crash. After all that manic writing, yesterday came the "snap." Caught between the pressure of wanting renovations done by a contractor who is now a month late starting and my (minor) lung surgery on June 12.  I had to "fire" him and that was the trigger.

But, relentless optimist that I am, I appreciate the gentle ride of my obsessions and mania because at my age I can be conscious of it all and that consciousness makes me a better writer as I move more and more into dialogue and drama and away from technical writing.

I had a ball early yesterday morning at Whole Foods. "Monica" was training "Dixie' (now there's a name you don't hear often now a days) and there was hardly anyone in the store so while they were processing I asked them what they thought about while they worked.

"Do you ever say to yourself: 'Wow, no wonder that guy's so fat. Look at what he eats?" Or: "Good God, woman, you only need one of those!" I wondered because their job is to serve a constant stream of people and they get to meet each person through their food choices—a Rorschach snapshot of their personality. We had a lot of fun talking about it and it would never have occurred to me to ask had I not started writing drama and dialogue. I love it.

It's an adage: Write what you know. And great writers are avid readers. I was never a great reader. I mean I love reading and getting lost in the worlds of great writers, but I was a writer. I thought of reading as the passive form of writing and I preferred active involvement with words. And I have always been a talker, so it should not surprise me that my writing of dialogue is going pretty well.

The crash was short and deep. A least self-loathing keeps you humble—again, the optimist sees good in everything. I wanted the ear of God; I wanted to negotiate and make promises. Today is a better day.