Is it something in the air? The change of seasons? A change in pursuit or passion or priority?
All of the above?
I notice I’m not the only blogger whose posting frequency has dwindled or come to a screeching halt. I didn’t expect my ‘break’ to last this long, but whether it’s because of family time, more physical activities, signing up for (too many) classes, a change in my writing priorities or simply grasping every last moment enjoying multi-colored trees while October sun warms my face, I cannot summon the will to blog.
Right now, anyway.
My ‘Annie Project’ has led me down an unexpectedly enjoyable reading, research and mapping path. I have chosen to forego my blogging time in order to immerse myself without distractions. At least until I figure out where I’m headed. Once I know, you’ll know, too!
Withdrawing during difficult times is my lifelong pattern. Withdrawing during the best of times is not my norm. It feels right for this endeavor.
Please, don’t all of you do likewise! Reading your blogs remains a highlight every day.
Phantom by William Matthews
If Alice Munro’s short stories are lazy river reading, Annie Proulx’s tales mimic her Wyoming rivers – indolent rivulets trickling through thirsty summer creek beds; rivulets that turn with a flash of lightning into raging swollen walls of water.
Stories bubbling and churning downstream with sharp twists that uproot everyone caught in their unforgiving path.
Did any of you watch that 50’s-60’s show called ‘What’s My Line?’ where four people come on stage and say something like, “I’m Annie, and I’m an author”?
Only one of them was really an author named Annie but they all answered author-ish questions from a panel of celebrities (Dorothy Kilgallen, Arlene Francis, Bennett Cerf) who would then guess which contestant was the real Annie.
Finally the host, John Charles Daly, would say, “Will the real Annie please stand up?” and the audience would gasp at how cleverly the contestants fooled the panel.
That’s how I felt back in January when Elizabeth wrote about reading Anne LaMott’s book Small Victories.
The gist of our comments was:
Me: “I’m so glad you are enjoying Annie Dillard …
Elizabeth: “Who is Annie Dillard?”
I’d done it again. Been flummoxed by the Annies.