I don’t know who I am. I don’t know how to be. I don’t know what’s next or even, sometimes, what’s come before. Even “where am I?” is a difficult question these days.
Writing helps.
If I let a few days pass without scribing my three pages, I come a little unmoored. It took a while to notice this. These unholy pauses are sometimes followed by a great volume of ink, often equal to the aggregate number of missed pages. Now I’ve instituted a ‘catch up routine’ — whenever I miss a day, I mark my notebook where I’d be had I written every day. And then I catch up.
It seems to matter.
Strangely, writing makes me feel better even when dedicated to identifying what’s bothering me. Turns out, knowing what’s bothering me even without remedy is preferable to being bothered and ignorant to cause.
Does anyone understand why this is so?
I’ll answer the above questions, out of curiosity? Can you?
“Who am I?” All the labels hang like loose chads, so I’ll let Joni Mitchell’s words stand in as answer: “I am a woman of heart and mind, with time on her hands, no child to raise…” Maybe?
“How to be?” How to be with respect to writing, that is: Stay at it. Don’t let doubt in any of its guises derail you. The rest is detail: collect 18th century language; bounce between public risk and private assembly; keep assessing the story’s pace. Keep at it. Vanquish doubt.
“Where am I?” I’ve lived at this address for 23 years and in this town since 1986, so it’s strange to feel like I don’t really belong here. Did I ever? And if not here, where? Having been uprooted every few years growing up, I wanted stability for my boys and this was a good town for them to grow up in. But now? And it’s not just the leaf blowers.
The state of our nation and our planet shove disorientation down my throat in a manner most vile. Is this country mine anymore? Will there be a coup? Who will take him and his cronies down and when? Knowing that MILLIONS of Americans share my shock and grief doesn’t alter the central fact of my fearful alienation. Where am I, indeed!

Boston Climate March
‘We don’t have four years,’ she says. ‘The planet doesn’t have four years’.
‘The entire political system has to change,’ she says, ‘We have to SWERVE.’ (What does that mean?)
‘It’s not enough to resist. We have to also build.’ How? How?
PS “Daily Pages” as developed by Julia Cameron in “The Artist’s Way“‘
I wanted to know what you were thinking. It’s good to know Dee Mallon exists, and writes. Please keep on. Those of us who are not as eloquent or articulate need you.
Why thank you. It would be nice not to need encouragement but I do!
Thanks Maryanne. It’d be nice not to need encouragement but it sure is nice to receive!
love that song & the whole album “For the Roses”, haven’t heard it for ages, oh and about the importance of writing in this parlous time for the world bearing witness through our stitching, painting, sculpting, writing and standing strong in the front line of the resistance to the awfulness being wrought by the greed of the corporate powers manipulating the governments of our beautiful broken world…
Mo
Always, so much food for thought here …
Don shared some recent viewing, that Joni Mitchell was an artist who happened to be a musician, too. I think I knew this once. How much there is to remember.
Yes! To how there is to remember. And with respect to music I listened to coming of age, I curse the digital revolution (as much as I love so much about it, including this dialogue). Those important, oft-listened to songs require a google search! Long gone the vinyl! Joni Mitchell was one of my favorites.