Category: California

A Tip for the Writers who are…

MediumDistractedWriter2
Photo Credit: Raw Pixel/Unsplash

 

… D I S T R A C T E D.

Today I’m distracted.

Yes, I admit it: I am a writer, and my mind is wandering away from the page.

Writers find distractions necessary for they are the subtle, and necessary space of disconnecting our linear mind so we can slip into the creative space.

I’m distracted even though my life has been on a full-rush-gotta-get-things-done mode.

Today I’m working on my novel. I’ve got a goal for the word count. Everyday I set a goal, as an act of faith and a reminder that I am a writer.

Goals are essential much like distractions.

So what about my wandering mind?

Food. Yep, it’s certainly an easy way to put my writing on hold. So I did.

I searched in the fridge for some lunch, and saw one of my jars of olives had an off color. These are not store bought olives, nope, I’m making them from scratch, and it’s a slow, slow process.

Olive making is much like a writing a novel. It takes time. A lot of it.

I’m at the point where I should’ve added the salt/vinegar solution to the jars, but then, well, all the little things in life happened, which meant that the olive jars had been shoved into the back of the fridge.

At first, I moaned, oh no, there’s mold growing on them, so I picked up the jar, and laughed. I froze the damn olives. A sheet of ice covered the inside of the jar. Frozen olives.

So…are they ruined? I don’t know. Do I need to turn down the temp on my fridge? Hell, yeah.

Am I giving up on this olive making process? No way.

I’m not a quitter.

I’m going to let the olives thaw out while I get back to writing my novel, and see what happens. I’ll add the brine mixture, and let them ferment.

Maybe they’ll end up being the best olives that I’ve ever eaten or the crappiest, but they certainly taught me a lesson:

Don’t push the things that you love, or enjoy doing, into the dark cold corners of the ‘fridge’ of your life.

 

Copyright 2017 © Jessie Zanita

 

Photo Credit: Jessie Zanita

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The Commute. {Poetry}

swimrainroad

Smudged ink

as wisdom curves into words

as sounds of a violin
play through the radio waves

dissolving
with the drizzling drops of rain
on the roof,

you glance through the fine layers of glass
to see a thousand black dots flying eastward,

crows moving like the commuters
on the Interstate —
all as one, but each
one
as one
within

a microcosm of silence

as each flap of a wing,
every rotation of a tire,
every quick thought that rolls through your mind
like lightning — a streak of genius — sudden,

and then gone,

as darkness
settles once more
over the wet farmlands
and the deep taproots of oak seedlings
are finally soaked
with rain,

much like my fingers stained
by this smudge
of

black ink.

Copyright 2017  ©   Jessie Zanita Wright

Photo Credit: Comfreak/Pixabay