Tunnel vision (just swing)

I’ve noticed that I tend to get a nasty case of tunnel vision when I’m working on a novel. I first realized this when I found myself mentally snarling about having to do terrible things like go to parties and meet friends for coffee–both benign if not utterly charming activities which I normally enjoy, albeit in small doses. Once I’d gotten to the point where any amount of socializing was too big a drain on my time, where free time reading in the yard was too dear a luxury, where a simple conversation with anyone was just too much to ask, I realized I might need to reevaluate my commitments.

This is not to say that I’m questioning my commitment to writing. In fact, I still hope to stick to the one-novel-per-year pace that I accidentally set for myself. But it would be nice to be able to accomplish that while reaffirming my commitment to actually living–occasionally seeing people who aren’t my boyfriend or my coworkers or my cats, finding a good-looking mountain to get lost on, working on a project not labeled Vestal or Book Three for a change. I’ve been desperately craving some kind of tactile project, maybe learning to work with felt or finally going to the local makerspace and learning to use those sharp, shiny tools.

In honor of my renewed commitment to sometimes engaging in activities that aren’t writing a novel, I decided to post a sample of my accidental collection of photos of me swinging, well, anywhere there’s a swing. I specifically chose this series because playing is utterly pointless from a productivity perspective. But give me a good game of hide and seek or show me a swing (especially if it happens to be facing the ocean) and I’ve forgotten all my cares and responsibilities. I’m happy in a way that usually requires two hard ciders, a bowl of ice cream, and a day off from work.

Maybe this is self-indulgent nonsense–which would, of course, be a first for a personal blog–but I needed to be reminded to relax and play once in awhile and I doubt I’m such a unique snowflake that other adults don’t face the same difficulty. So, however important the project you’re working on, however crammed your datebook might be with very important meetings and other adult nonsense, consider finding yourself a swing. Or anything, really, that encourages you to momentarily let go of your very important responsibilities.

In Anchorage, Alaska …


In Avila Beach, California …


On the Isle of Arran, Scotland …

268105_10100640603008256_2621216_n 263790_10100640536142256_5775278_n 263166_10100648239824016_1111999_n



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: