Yesterday morning, I received an email with my edited manuscript. I was all prepared to dive into the edits and see how I could improve my writing before sending it back to the publisher for one more round of final edits.
Then, I read the email. The small press I had to decided to go with is shutting down as of January 1, 2025 and will not be publishing Catching Dreams.
It’s been ten years since you died, but it’s been more than ten years since I’ve seen you last. I still see you in my dreams occasionally. The last time I saw you, you apologized to me, but I wasn’t sure why.
You said you were going to work on getting better. That you had hit rock bottom, and you never wanted to experience it again.
You took me to a bar in the city with paint splatters on the wall and we shared dinner. I think we held hands.
You told me what it felt like hitting your lowest of lows, waking up in your car with vomit all over you, not sure what had happened to you the night before.
When you hugged me, it didn’t feel like goodbye, but it was.
We used to talk on the phone as you painted your nails. I’d listen to the sirens in the distance and wonder if we lived different lives. If we could ever experience a world the same way.
I’d braid your hair on Friday nights; other girls would put your hair in pigtails, but I liked a single braid.
I remember lying my head on your chest, your hairy stomach soft underneath me. You never complained about the weight of me.
I remember you playing the guitar at night. I remember listening to Fleetwood Mac with you and thinking all our thoughts were worth writing down.
I never took a picture with you because I thought I was ugly, unphotogenic.
I remember you telling me you played me the guitar because you didn’t know the words to say.
It’s been ten years since you died, and even though I have a guitar, I still don’t know the words to say.
I never said goodbye.
She told me you loved me. That you always loved me. I must have hurt you because I laughed when you tried to kiss me the first time.
But now, you are buried and gone, and I’m here. You always played me “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd. I guess I just wish you were here. I feel like we could talk all night and maybe I’d let you play me the guitar. And maybe you’d let me braid your hair.
It’s been too long, and I never said goodbye.
Sometimes, I think I’m only worth the amount of XYZ I produce. I’m only worth my word count or the amount in my checking account. Sometimes, I think if I’m not producing art or making words appear on the page, I’m worthless.
But as I was sketching in my sketchbook recently, I rediscovered a phrase that resonated with me: “The creative requires as much care as the creation.”
All of a sudden, it feels clear. I’m supposed to take breaks. I’m allowed to have time away from writing and creating and doing. I can’t be a machine. I’m only human and that’s what makes me so beautiful.
It’s not about constant production. It’s about living life and having experiences and enjoying my life. So I need to forget about constant output and just enjoy the world around me. No longer am I going to entertain the guilt that has been a passenger to everything I do, instead, I’m going to focus on enjoying the journey.
Hey there!
It’s been a while since I’ve updated, but if you follow me on social media, (which I highly recommend you do) you’ll know that my chapbook is almost complete! We have a title, my publisher and editors have polished it, and I just have my final checks to do before we take it to print. That being said, we’re doing some pretty unusual and cool things with its formatting that I think you all will be excited to see once it’s in print. I’m so excited to share this labor of love with all of you.
Speaking of labors of love, I’m currently going over the first round of edits for Catching Dreams that my publisher has sent over before sending it to the publisher. The first round of edits involves tightening up the prose, tidying up some redundancies, and just overall polishing it up. From there, it will go to the publisher’s editors, go through more editing, and then, hopefully, we’ll start drafting up a cover and it will – fingers crossed – hit the bookshelves in 2025!
I am so excited to share with you the progress of my journey. Also, while I have been away from my website, two of my poems were published in a local literary magazine called Perspectives. If you are interested in receiving a copy, please let me know and I can send you an autographed copy.
That’s all for now, but be sure to keep checking my website for more updates!
Lately, I have been thinking a lot about my art and my writing. I have found sketch pads and notebooks where I have ripped out nearly every single page because I was expecting perfection out of myself. What a lofty goal – perfection ten out of ten times? It was ludicrous. I realized I stopped enjoying the process when I was so focused on the outcome.
It took me some time, and a lot of journaling, to revitalize my love for writing and art as a process. I spent today working on a painting where I told myself, no matter what, I was going to keep it and not throw it away. I accidentally spilled a blotch of purple paint on the corner and my first thought was that I needed to fix it, but instead, I just lived with it. And you know what? All Hell didn’t break loose. I survived, and the painting survived too.
I used to have a friend who said, “It’s not in spite of our flaws that we’re wonderful, it’s because of them.” And that’s the attitude I’m bringing into the new year. I’m enjoying my imperfections, whether it’s in my poetry, fiction, or art. I stopped creating for so long because I was expecting too much out of myself.
Now, I’m back to simply enjoying the process – no matter what the outcome may be.
Isabelle Palerma 