THE GOLF TEE marks the spot where the error was made. I need to undo to that point, then move forward again. That means more time.
I think of my mother-in-law unraveling her knitting after detecting a mistake 20 rows back. I watched in horror and protested.
“Who will notice that one stitch?”
“Nobody but me,” she said. “But this sweater will last for years. I don’t want the sight of it to remind me of a mistake I could have corrected.”
I was young and in a hurry. She, however, was making a work of art.
* * *
TWO WEEKS AGO, I sent short excerpts from my ebook to a few objective readers, just to get some feedback. I’ve been writing in a vacuum and need the help of others to tell me if I’m coming across clearly, making sense, writing anything anyone might want to read. I heard back. Now I can come back at it with fresh eyes. Only I haven’t, not yet, because:
1) a huge distraction came into my life
2) there is no #2, I just don’t feel #1 is reason enough
I worry about wasting time. but I’m starting to think that worrying about things being a waste of time is a huge obstacle to creating art because:
1) I can’t always discern between wastes of time and setbacks that are integral to the work
2) there is no #2, I just haven’t fully accepted #1
I’m pretty sure the distraction that’s kept me from the ebook plays a part in the bigger story and the mental mishmash that occurs each morning when I show up at the page is just my head processing everything.
* * *
FYI: I worked my way back to the golf tee.
I finished the chairs.