In case anyone was wondering, I haven’t died or finally been committed to an asylum (though I expect both in due time.) Rather, I’ve been completely immersed in a wonderful manuscript project with a lovely client who happens to be an art historian. That has meant end notes, figures, captions, appendices, an index, and Chicago’s 16th Edition – an editor’s dream job!
For years I’ve told told everyone (myself included) that editing uses the same parts of the brain as writing, so when I’m working on an editing project I’m not able to write. I now realize that isn’t true. Although there’s a certain degree of overlap, editing uses a good deal more left-brain function than writing, which relies primarily on right-brain operations.
The upshot of this discovery is that I can no longer use work (editing) as an excuse not to work (writing). It’s surprising how liberating that feels.
I woke this morning from sound sleep
and poetry – no words remained
in mind, only the clear knowledge
I had shaped verse as I went about
the business of the dream.
So today I wrote again
after too many weeks of letting life
and other work take up all
available space and time and energy –
but no more.