Gathering Rosebuds

I’ve decided to practice what I teach (<–nope, not a typo).

When I teach writing, I harp endlessly on the need to write often, to keep the muscle memory of writing flexed and supple. It’s like playing an instrument, I say, or practicing a sport. 

That’s why at the beginning of each class I provide my students with two quotes and ask them to write about them for a bit. Mostly they’re writing for themselves–I might read a few when I collect at the end of the semester, but it’s spotty.

They love it.

But do I do it myself? Eh, not really.

Here’s another thing I tell my students: we are always writing for an audience, even if that audience is our own self. We tend to be more precise writers, however, when that audience is another person. So it’s a great idea to get feedback on writing, to hone our skills and broaden our perspective.

Do I do that either? Nah, not enough.

That’s why I’m going to try to revive this blog. I’m tired of stowing my writing in a drawer like it’s some dirty secret, of being jittery when anyone reads it. I need to toughen the calluses of my writing muscles (<–that probably doesn’t make sense anatomically, but you get the drift).

This blog started out as a way for me to frame what I was researching in the 17th century with current trends and my own (sometimes random) pairing of historical ephemera and political and social trends. Hence the name of the blog–Out of Time.

That name has taken on a new meaning for me after being diagnosed with and treated for breast cancer.

I’m not out of time, not yet (did I just tempt fate or the gods or something? Yikes).   My cancer was caught very early and I have an excellent prognosis. But an experience like that changes you, ya know? 

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may and all that.

So if you’re reading, thank you. You’re giving me the gift of flexing my writing muscles and overcoming my writerly cowardice. 

I’ll be back in a few days. Take care and gather those rosebuds, my dears.

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