Viscous. Dragging. Slow. Today, I languish. I wait for my sugaring season.
Writers are like maple trees; words, our syrup. We have seasons that run on short cycles. Hourly. Daily. Weekly. Sometimes, it’s too cold for words to flow. Sometimes, the pressure differential isn’t enough, so you have to wait through your winters. Hibernate. Let your starches convert to sugars.
I have a browser tab open from the Massachusetts Maple Producers Association which describes how maple trees work (have you ever considered how much you could learn about someone based on the browser tabs they have open?). Temperature changes lead to pressure differentials between the inside of the tree and the exterior, which causes sap to flow. It can flow up, down, and sideways, too. Leaking from cut branches and intentional taps. Did you know there are maple sommeliers?
For a writer to keep her sap flowing, the trick is to circumvent these temperature fluctuations to find a consistent one, maintaining internal pressure so she’s always in sugaring season. I haven’t found the trick yet. But I did find a writing workshop to take. I start on May 10th. I am also going to submit to The Raymond Carver Short Story Contest. What, I don’t know. But something. Just to keep the syrup flowing.
Persisting.
“Smells like the woods. Tastes like sugar. I’m in.”
Things That Nourished My Writing: April 8-21.
FILM
Hemingway (God. He was such a dick!).
FOOD
Chunky Avocado Salad from Fiasco
Ayako & Family Jam (the best fucking jam in the universe).
Anything – and I mean literally anything – from New York Times Cooking
LITERARY
Meaningful Work by Shawn Askinosie
Why the Filet-O-Fish is My Gold Standard for Fast Food by Jane Hu
MUSIC
Sugaring Season by Beth Orton
PLACES
Sailing on Elliott Bay
INSTA
I’ma keep it Black. But I’ma keep it brief. by Lynae Vanee