28 Pages of Revision…

Twenty-eight pages. A solid revision day. One goal for this narrative is that each chapter feels complete, carrying the weight of story on its own.

Best writing today:  “I didn’t know I had so much blood inside me. Feeling dizzy, I lowered myself onto the glass, lying on my back as if I were used to a bed such as this. I stared at the ceiling while waiting for Mrs. Heights to come, to help. Our ceiling, the same gray cement color as the floor, thick with cobwebs strewn in corners. It seemed lower than I remembered. I watched a spider drop, trembling on a thread, I swear, inches above my face. I feared spiders. I tasted bile, squeezed my eyes as my body began to shake.”

I know every writer carries a system, a method to “warm up.”

I have a beautiful fountain pen with midnight-purple ink. I love the scratching sound against paper. I love the way it glides across my journal pages. I write long-hand. Three to five pages each morning. I complain, I cry, I sort my shit on those early pages. Julia Cameron refers to this as morning pages. Natalie Goldberg also recommends long-hand writing, developing penmanship, character, disposition, and your nature.

This process connects my mind to my heart, my heart to my hand, my hand to pen and finally, pen to page. It is a quiet process. It is slow. I have a permanent ink stain on my calloused index where the pen rests. It looks like a deep bruise.

Family Adventure = Bowling at Big Al’s. My gutter ball was so slow it stalled in the gutter and I had to flag down a staff member to walk onto the lane and retrieve it. My youngest son beat us all in the first game. My disabled son won the second. I lost every time. I consider myself entertainment in bowling.

Water = forget it.

Core Strength = I sucked in my gut most of the day.

Guitar = it hurts to play. I can strum, but not pick. It is very difficult for me.

New Dish = Chicken Tortellini – Kosher. Coated in salt, cracked pepper, olive oil, rosemary and a titch of lemon juice.

New Discovery = I enjoy my mid-life hot flashes. My feet stay cold and having this new internal heat doesn’t seem a bad deal.

Staying Bright.

Published by Rebecca Evans

Bio: Rebecca Evans is a memoirist, poet, and essayist. In addition to writing, she teaches Creative Nonfiction at Boise State University and mentors high school girls in the juvenile system. In her spare time, she co-hosts a radio program, Writer to Writer, offering a space for writers to offer tips on craft and life. She served eight years in the United States Air Force and is a decorated Gulf War veteran. She’s hosted and co-produced Our Voice and Idaho Living television shows, advocating personal stories. She’s also disabled, a Veteran, a Jew, a gardener, a mother, a worrier, and more. She has a passion for sharing difficult stories about vulnerability woven with mysticism and hopes to inform, in a new way, what it means to navigate this world through a broken body and spirit. Her poems and essays have appeared in Narratively, The Rumpus, Entropy Literary Magazine, War, Literature & the Arts, The Limberlost Review, and a handful of anthologies. She’s co-edited an anthology of poems, WHEN THERE ARE NINE, a tribute to the life and achievements of Ruth Bader Ginsburg (Moon Tide Press). Her full-length poetry collection, a memoir-in-verse, TANGLED BY BLOOD, will be available in 2023 (Moon Tide Press). Evans earned two MFAs, one in creative nonfiction, the other in poetry, University of Nevada, Reno at Lake Tahoe. She lives in Idaho with her sons, her Newfoundlands, and her Calico.

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