my thoughts today on a few things & being a writer

So, lately I have been making all these landscape shots at the beach, and I really liked the minimalism of this one.  But there is something else about it too.  This year in my life, and my life as a writer — things have changed.

To be a real writer?

You have to be able to stand apart enough to see and so this requires a sort of solitude and seriousness?

Where we find that is with our like kind.

For me, I think it will involve being near the peace that the sea offers.  I’ve been editing a novel for a friend and it has really moved me, trememdously — it is going to give much strength to those who read it as well.

So, maybe yesterday I took this shot unconsciously?

The rugged individualism that it takes to be one of those kinds of writers — it becomes about what you are going to try and leave as an oeuvre?

Stony strength like Steinbeck had.

Anyway.

I really want to go to the writer’s conference here and I’m going to have to sell something of my mom’s to do it — which is infuriating me no end given that I deserve some help after 27 years and that is not forthcoming here.  So, a turning point is at hand.

I was thinking as a teen walking the stacks at the library how one of the first voices I met was Guy de Maupassant — a short story of much irony that he wrote about the hair and the watch chain.  Yep.

I am the sort of woman who would have sold my hair to get the watch chain?

I am not married to someone who cares for me like n that short story.  I’m not.

I grew up in a family that would sell their hair and sacrifice for others if need be.

So, as I approach the moment of doing something I have not done in this moment of existence in quite this way, I realize I am drawing on my mother’s stubborness and reserve at the same time.

I intend to live the rest of my life as she did hers, far more fearlessly.  This could be my age but frankly why not?

I’m very finished with this selfishness I’ve had to live with.  Finished.

So, anyway — the writer in order to forge forward in life — or the artist — has to learn selfishness and not to let others take from them that which they must do!  I’m quite serious on that.  I let someone else entirely direct the last 27 years of my life.  Over.

You have to stand apart like the two rocks on the boulder, no?

The writer is outsider and observer, as the artist is.

I intend to spend the rest of my life with those of my kind because frankly we get along!

xxoo!

Love from Adrienne

ps: more pix! and I didn’t edit yesterday so that is a rough draft! xxoo!

From Monumental Sea! my paradise anyway… one of them.