Well, here we are. Rolling on up, 2023 ready to be put up alongside all those other years gone by. Move over, past; here’s some more. I had to look at my calendar to confirm the redolent satisfaction of having survived and thrived—no insignificant matter these days. I hope you also found ways to fly in small, unexpected, challenging or major ways. Flying with full on Isis (the Egyptian goddess not the other!!) level mojo wings. The world is so desolate these days, it can be a respite to go micro, up close. Tune in to personal stories for hope and strength.
Writing about my 2023 in this dispatch started looking like those year end newsletter summary things that people send. Not crazy about those, it’s like; what. you can’t be bothered to keep me in the loop while all this stuff is happening, but here, read my recap? Hmph. Anyway. The year started awesome and the hits kept coming so I made a video reel instead. It’s chronological starting with recording in January with the Mountain Goats.
As much as I look forward to a new year, some of these experiences will stick with me for the rest of my life. And this…the Direction of Motion, the Substack platform, and you, dear readers, have been right here throughout. Keeping me writing, learning how to impose some consistency and discipline into the vagabondage of my 64th year, figuring out where, how, which way to grow.
How’s the coming of aging biz going you ask?
Dealing. Shelving me, and a few eye/teeth/skin things that are only midway done. One eye cataract fixed, waiting on the other. One implant in, waiting on the other. Probably will pay down the road for putting this stuff off. It’s hard to get away with anything when you’re in your 60’s, and I’m closing in on 65. Yep. Got my Medicare card already, and in UK I get to infiltrate that health care system, and get a Senior Rail Card, 1/3 off all fares.
Signing up for Social Security benefits and AFTRA pension. Bring it all. Pardon me while I rejoice a second.
I’m a ‘tween: old enough for perks but not so old that I’m decrepit. Rejoice, I say.
How’s the move going you ask?
All I see is how much more is left to do. I’m not overwhelmed any more, what’s the point of that? I just chip away, day after day, looking forward to when I can look around and see how little is left to do. Friends are helping. It made Christmas gift buying a little hard, feeling decidely anti-consumer with the embarrassment of acquired stuff. I’m not a hoarder by any stretch, but I’m a keeper, and much of my sobriety was a whack-a-mole addiction transfer from alcohol to sugar to shopping.
It took years to become aware of what was happening: browsing/gazing/ searching/buying/zoning out and shelving feelings. Once I was aware, I joked about it. After the joking phase, I worked on it, but the collateral is extensive. When you think about it, there’s something a little poetic or meta about stuffing feelings with stuff.
Pretty sure Gingerman and Rocky are trying to sabotage their move by getting as huge as possible. They both eat ravenously, so much so that I had them checked for health issues. They’re fine. My vet said “they just want to be big cats.” Interesting that this quest for largeness is coinciding with them having to fit into airline sized carriers next month. Their cuddly affection and loud purrs are just ways to deflect from the fact that they are both devious, self-serving creatures. I’m coming back to Texas from mid-January just to handle this dreaded part of moving, cats only.
Remember when I bought the wolf urine? From 6) Detour
While packing, I came across a few bottles of unused wolf pee, nearly exactly a year after writing this and don’t know what to do with it. It must be really rank with a year of settling. Stay tuned. And if fat cats and year-old wolf pee aren’t your jam, I’m bound to hit on something else.
My online store, KV Swag & Stuff, has been a resounding success. If you’re one of the people who have shopped and bought anything, I can’t begin to say what a huge help it’s been financially. People are buying clothes, books, records, jewelry, household items, memorabilia, posters, photos…it gives me great pleasure to know these things are going to people who will treasure and value them. KV Swag & Stuff remains open until Jan 2.
Some of you know my dream as a writer is to write and publish a collection of short stories. I often put the dream and stories into storage, on a whole other shelf—a self shelf—because I don’t have confidence that my stories are any good. Numerous reasons why:
Every single time I “take a look” or re-read, I find flaws that need to be addressed. I’ve revised these stories at least a dozen times. This is good, because they do improve with each pass, and I seem to improve as a writer (of that particular story) but it’s bad because it follows that if I ever thought the prior version was good, I must have a propensity towards delusion. 1
Over time, I’ve given one story or another to people to read. No one has come back to tell me they are brilliant or wonderful. Two people said nothing—maybe they never read—I wasn’t going to put them on the spot and ask. One person read a story and said “I don’t like it.” One writer I respect liked a story (she said) but she also likes me a lot so one doesn’t know if it’s legit.
I was rejected by Iowa Writer’s Workshop and NYU’s MFA program and by Yaddo, the cool artist’s retreat. 2
None of this is confidence building material. Neither is it decisive that the work isn’t good. I dislike or dismiss lots of stuff other people seem to love and vice versa.
Reading short stories adds to the ping-pong denigration/cheerleading that dogs my creative writing efforts. I might think: “my stories are just as good as these, in this published book I just read.” Or: “my stories do not measure up to these.” Out of four creative writing classes I’ve taken, each professor was complimentary and supportive. But. That’s their job. No professor is going to say: You’re not good enough, do something else.
Unlike a professor, this is exactly what I say to myself when the stories/dream goes on the shelf. “They aren’t good enough, do something else.” This isn’t as terrible as it sounds because there’s plenty of things, including writing songs, prose, or essays, that I can do well. While looking down the shotgun barrel of my potential lifespan allotment, I lean to wanting to create the best work I can get made before things blow up or slink away. Or whatever exit strategy happens.
Oh, and also fun: wondering if I’ll ever have a new idea again. Several attempts at generating new stories have produced pages of well written sentences. This is the dilemma of literate, capable sentence makers: We can write sentences that seem like they’re saying something but really aren’t saying much at all.
Anyway, for the writers or dreamers of whatever you want to make, just know your insecurities and struggles and doubts are the same ones we all have. I urge myself, and you, to muddle through, finish what we’ve started and move on.
The Direction of Motion is always a leap into the unknown vastness of empty pageland. I hope you’ll stick around for this trans-Atlantic move to England in…10 days. It’ll be a leap into another unknown vastness; I have no idea what’s going to transpire. The idea that appeals most is letting trains lead my directions of motions, and do some significant writing while going from one place to another, and one assumes, back again. As a bonus for paid subscribers, these will be shared behind a paywall, a trial serialization, a series of railway essays. Can’t wait to get started and transparently hope these will bring more paid subscriptions, if you have the means, please join us there.
I’m now going down to the studs on one story that got published in a one-off literary journal. I wish it had never even seen that sliver of daylight because it clearly wasn’t ready to be read! Part of a class assignment was to send a story to at least 3 journals, which I did, and it got picked and it didn’t occur to me to say NEVERMIND
To be fair to myself, I was accepted into another respectable MFA program, and Yaddo had a pandemic backlog of applications they were wading through (I heard.)
Happy New Year..
Happy Birthday...
Happiness Always Kathy! 🥰
Happy birthday Kathy. Have a beautiful day.
🌹💋💜😎✌🏼