thursday.

I chose this icon because the colours accurately represented the colours on the sky during sunrise. It was so beautiful and pale pink and lightly purple and I think I prefer the palette of the sunrise to the reds and oranges of sunset, although I love a good sunset, too, of course.

Today came to a very gentle and calm start, which I really needed after everything yesterday. I have written a few poems, made myself a cup of tea (chamomile, I have bought a couple of white teas, but they have to be dosed before infusing and bagged chamomile tea is just lazy-easier) and am slowly letting the anxiety levels settle on low(er) in my body.

I only have one appointment today, a walk with my social worker apprentice, and then I need a shower and to wash my hair, so I'm ready for tomorrow and won't have to worry about spending energy on it there.

I'm trying to decide what's the best writing goal to set today. I kinda want to just say, write the rest of July, but that's quite a stretch and I don't want to go to bed feeling like I didn't accomplish what I set out to do, so I'm going to go a little lower, if not much. This morning, until noon, I'll be writing for July 13th-18th and after walk and shower, I'll be writing 19-26. That only leaves five remaining poems of July for whatever I can manage tomorrow evening or otherwise, Saturday, lumped together with planning, outlining and keywording August.

Besides, if I end up writing all of July anyway, it'll feel like an immense victory.

In this house, we like victories.

Home alone now, just sent my GF off to work, so now the next things on my to-do list are getting dressed and getting breakfast, in that order. Should probably do that now, so I can get writing as quickly as possible.

Closing off first update of the day with the first poem I wrote this morning:

The campsite was built in the evening, it still stands guard by dawn, by afternoon it’s become a semi-permanent fixture in the landscape.

She cannot return to society as a wild woman, wildness is caged and bound in the communities humanity form. She will go the same way as the horse that serves her and the wolf that does not, she will meet the same end. Instead she braids the wild tresses of her hair, a tight, thick, collected braid – what is this notion that things can get in order? We thought she didn’t believe in that.

You can ascribe to doctrines you don’t believe in, you just can’t fight for them.

Hair out of her face, the water surface tells her, her features are recognisable, her cheekbones are hers and her mouth is hers and her forehead is broad, strong, stubborn. Even like that, she doesn’t look like she belongs to society, those two different concepts, to belong and to society, but she’s willing to pretend the latter to be allowed the first.

Is that a sacrifice to make?

Have a nice day, everyone. You'll probably hear from me later!

thursday.

Did the writing today, finished chapter 7 (July) and will do what little planning and outlining I can tomorrow before/after seeing my parents. All in all, extremely pleased with the progress I made on this particular chapter, I felt it was pretty easy to navigate mentally and my ideas generally, minus a few key places, flowed very freely and came down on paper without a hitch. Very happy. Very, very happy.

Also tired, very, very tired.

Once I've posted this, I'm going to go shower, wash my hair, get ready for bed and sleep. Just sleep, I need all my energy reserves for the morning.

I think my favourite aspect of this prosetry novel is the way I'm working with concepts like humanity and inhumanity, wildness and freedom versus society and hierarchies/power/rule. The Amazon once was part of a community, living an "ordinary" life, but then she left - she fought, she learned about freedom both conceptually and in practice and now, she has to return and conform to what society needs her to be. I tell you, it's some journey. Very, very interesting to write about.

I think one of the reasons this interests me so much is because a lot of her experience in the aftermath of the war she fought is PTSD-driven and while very different from my own traumatic experiences, I really feel for her - and a lot of it reminds me of my father who was a soldier in the Kosovo wars of the late 90's/early '00s which is personal to me on a whole other level.

Anyway, those are the reasons I think this story has come to speak to me on so many levels and why it means so much to me to get it done. I see both myself and people dear to me in it. And I am learning a lot from writing it, not only as a writer, but as a human being.

Thinky things tend to do that, haha. At least to me.

Current word count: 31.014/50.000~
Current month count: 7/12
Current poem count: 212/365