Has it really been that long? Two months since I last blogged? And yet I think about the book every day. I notice people buying, reading, and talking about it. And the trip continues to change my life. So, how can I not be blogging about it? One, I’m more interested in what others have to say; and two, I’ve been too busy writing and reading.
A writer’s trap exists. One of the glories of writing is expounding on some point of view for thousands of words without anyone interrupting, contracting, or disagreeing. Comfort zones the size of universes can be created and retreated into. Writing can be the ultimate self-indulgence.
If you’re read the book, you know I am like a lot of people. Life can become a custom fitted rut. Drop in, dig it deep enough, and you can’t even see the rest of the world. You’re probably also aware that I find it necessary and healthy to climb out of that rut for a while, even if it means dropping into another one.
Few people wander aimlessly. Most follow a routine, possibly self-selected, but usually imposed by convention and circumstance. Those without routine or external impositions can lead lives filled with story, but not necessarily wealth and not necessarily poverty. Struggling artists struggle for a reason: art overrules money. Yet, “follow your passion and the money will find you” is familiar enough because it happens often enough to inspire thousands or millions.
Lately, I’ve been a bit of a workaholic by necessity. Book sales are nice, but it takes a best seller to pay the mortgage. In the meantime, I’ve had the privilege of being paid to read others’ manuscripts, scour the news for several organizations’ social media campaigns; and for no fee at all, continue writing for my other blog about money and life.
This has been my opportunity to let life in. While writing Walking Thinking Drinking Across Scotland I was also finishing a five year photo essay of Whidbey Island
– both very internal endeavours. Life stayed outside the doors while I finished my work. Now, news, your reviews, and my support of other creative people has come in to give me fresh perspective.
It is ironic and affirming that walking across Scotland was the right thing for me to do at that time. For three weeks I forced myself out of an old rut, and into a new one that provided hours of meditative walking during which a fresh perspective on life flowed back in to me.
The walk was just about three years ago. I’m not quite ready to do another (unless some publisher wants to pay me for the next one in the series – call me), and I don’t expect that anyone has done something similar as a result; but, maybe I, or we, should. Until we master immortality, life is short; and how long should any of us stay in a rut while life passes by?
And in the meantime, maybe I should get back to writing a bit more often. Stay tuned.