What sort of writer am I?

Thinking spring!

There’s cherries to be picking!

First, I’m a writer who never has enough time. I write, but never as much as I want to write.

On the other hand, I’m a writer who always has something to write about because I actually live a life that isn’t 24/7/365 in a chair in front of a computer.

Summer is difficult time-wise: the fruit is in season, and there is a lot of it. We have it for a reason, several reasons, actually: it’s good; it’s healthy–we know what’s been sprayed on it; there’s an abundance of it that we wouldn’t have on our table if we were buying it at the markets; there’s a great variety; I love to garden; and, our lifestyle has it’sown built-in exercise–we don’t need a gym.

You’ll notice that I didn’t say, “it’s free.” It isn’t free. It takes a good deal of time, which is money, and it even takes real money to have a successful orchard, or garden of any kind.

We’ve heard our share of comments like, “You’re so lucky,” “I wish I had fruit trees,” and “I wish I had what you have.”

Actually, very few people would like doing what a person has to do to have “what I have.” It is a lot of work. It requires a person to be able to lift, climb, haul, rake, push, pull, cut, saw, hammer, fix lawnmowers, diggers and tillers; you have to do it when the wind blows and when the sun shines; early and late . . . there are endless chores that go along with having a lovely, successful garden; and many times when you have to be outdoors when you’d rather be indoors, out of the weather, doing something else–writing, for instance.

One thing taking care of my estate does that might not seem important to many people, but is to me, is that it gives me times to think. Sometimes I think actively; more often I let my mind rest–and you’d be amazed at what it comes up with without any conscious intention of mine. That’s a very good thing for a writer.

The sort of writer I am is one with a fertile mind, a lifetime of real experience, enough time to sift, sort and juxtapose the stuff in my head, some talent–all the makings of a pretty good writer: I only need a few more hours in the day!

Just the same, I write most everyday and, like the tortoise, I think I’m going to get to the finish line.

Mona L S Baisch

How to (or how NOT to) keep a journal . . .

nd their way

Books, notebooks, scrapbooks, pictures, all find their way to every available surface . . .

I’ve never been very good about keeping my journals and notes in one place. They get scattered helter-skelter in various notebooks, on envelopes and odd papers, and on an assortment of electronic devise. And, I’ve been doing this for years. Decades, even.

There ought to be a better way.

I never find time to transcribe the odd bits into one central location—notebook, journal, or computer. My notes are as scattered as my life and, some might say, my mind.

Or, you might say, it’s just who I am. Complex. Living several lives at once—and all, more or less, in just one location. I’m not a world traveler; in fact, I rarely leave home for more than a few hours.

It’s just that I can’t take the same journal with me everywhere I go. It’s never on the porch or in the garden when I need it. I find what’s closest at hand, before I lose my train of thought. I run to the greenhouse, the studio, the garage; find an envelope on the table, or a paper towel in the kitchen.

I would carry a small notepad, but I usually don’t have a pocket. My purse is filled with scraps and scribbles on paper napkins and cash register receipts.

The best I can say for myself is that I have thoughts. Lots of them. And quite a few of them that I think are worth writing down somewhere. I often wonder if they find themselves into other hands, to be read by other eyes, some of them. They’re very safe, though: No one else can read my writing: They’re very safe.

Mona L S Baisch