Good Bye For Now…

Do not start writing at midnight, I tell myself. Don’t do it. Don’t. I can rarely leave a post unfinished once I start. That will mean a 2AM bedtime. So, yeah, don’t do it. But, I fear that I must.

I have, like I imagine many writers do, a process. I vacillate between handwriting with a certain type of pen that leaves a certain type of ink in a large, line free, hard cover, thick paged sketch book and typing on my cheap laptop. I usually start by jotting down ideas and lines and paragraphs in the sketchbook and then type my more cohesive draft on the computer. As I write, I refer to the sketchbook, jot down more ideas, continue typing and then every few paragraphs I reread—silently or out loud to myself—my work. I then become inspired to write more and/or adjust accordingly.

I only say all of this because I am on the last page of a 200+ page sketchbook that I started writing in on September 2, 2013.

It is fitting that it should be the last page in this notebook because this might also be the last page that I publish on Life Unfurling for a while.

You see, I just had a powerful conversation with a dear friend of mine. The conversation was about setting intentions—intentions for the upcoming year and beyond. We– my friend and I– are going to make intention boards and decided tonight to verbally flesh out the ideas or visions or aims or whatever you might call them that would grace these boards. We wanted to be as specific as possible without forcing limitations.

My intentions were few and simple. They dealt with relationships and creativity.

I once wrote—in a previous intention exercise– that I wanted to work with like-minded adults who pushed me to my creative potential. At the time, and perhaps up until an hour ago, I thought that this meant a career shift as my job centers around working with youth in a position in which my creativity feels stifled. But then I realized that this artists’ community that I so want to be a part of might be accessed in addition to my day-to-day grind.

Recently, while taking a memoir class, I felt part of such a community and was pushed through assignments and exercises to stretch my writing. During this period I felt both fulfilled and closer to my dream of centering my life and my work around my passions, the biggest of which is my writing. I want a bigger audience. I want to do readings. I want to publish. I want to be heard.

Yet, when the class was over and the prompts and feedback ceased, I returned to a state of feeling like my writing was a practice to the idea that “doing something” with my writing is just a dream.

I do believe that we have the power to manifest many of the things we want out of life. This manifestation often comes in the “When I…” statements rather than the “If I…” statements. A perfect example would be my month long trip to Mexico. On a plane to Salt Lake City, I mentioned to the co-worker sitting next to me that I wanted to travel Mexico. “If I go…” I started. She stopped me. “Never say ‘If I…’,” she quipped. “Say ‘When I…’ then write it down on a piece of paper and send that intention out to the Universe.” I had no financial means to make a trip like that nor did I have the guts. It was all a dream. But, I followed her advice and six months later I was in Mexico. That was that.

So, tonight, I am setting the specific intention that next fall I submit a 60 page manuscript to be accepted into a master writing class. I set the intention that I read from said manuscript. I also set the intention that I also publish something from said manuscript. That means that I need to start really working on said manuscript.


I will open up another sketchbook and jot down a few ideas.

And, tomorrow.

I will look over the pages and pages that I have written and see what I can glean from them. See what I can mold into something new. Something cohesive. Something inspiring.

That means that I cannot, I don’t think, continue to put my efforts here. Not on a blog. This has become too easy, too convenient, and, perhaps, too time consuming. I need to feel the pain and satisfaction of growth. Even the few hours I spend writing here I need to spend on pushing myself to do more. To move on. To make my dreams realities. (Of course I say all this and I will probably post again tomorrow. Ha!)

I want to thank you from the very center of my soul for reading my work. Writing here has been very rewarding and I often feel your presence as I write. Yet… Yet…

Good bye for now. (I think.)



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