The idea for this blog started one weekday morning. My kids were at the table eating breakfast, and I was at my nearby desk, hunched over my laptop, going over the editor’s changes to soon-to-be-published first article. It had been a dream of mine to write for Flute Talk ever since I first saw the magazine, and it was finally happening. Through a series of e-conversations with editor, Patricia George, who issued the challenge, “Well, now that I am editor, will your write something for me?” and sparked several hours of Friday evening panic – – – – I mean, WHAT was I going to write? Prior to being asked, I had BUCKETS of ideas floating around in my head. After receiving that message from Patricia, I looked at my husband, shook my head and said, “I got nothin’.”
“Give it time,” my patient husband, John, said. “Something will spew forth from that noggin’ of yours.”
I’m very good at spewing things forth from my noggin’. I always have been. It’s a bit of a liability, as you can imagine, but some good has finally come from it. I sent Patricia a pedagogical article, and she liked my spewings and wanted to publish them. (She does a good job of cleaning up what you can clearly see is stream-of-consciousness spewing. Some might call my writing unorganized. I like to think I’m like James Joyce.) More article requests from other editors of other journals followed.
So, there I was. Going over the Patricia’s changes, hovered over my laptop like it contained something sacred. And then I just LOOKED DOWN at my lap. I was wearing yoga pants that had cat fur on them, and a work-out tee. I was clutching my coffee mug. I couldn’t see my hair, but because it was morning, I didn’t need to see it to know that it was probably sticking out in numerous directions. (I wish it had this kind of body when I WANT it to stick out in some stylish manner.) My daughter was asking for more juice. And I was WEARING AN APRON. A frilly one. And I thought, “My God. This is my life.” (Don’t knock aprons. They’re dead useful. Especially when you work from home. I have a home flute studio.)
And then I thought I should write about it. And so here we are. I know little about blogs. This whole thing is new. I don’t really know how to write. Recently, someone told me I should teach a Creative Writing Class. I said, “I’ve never even TAKEN a creative writing class.” “That’s why you’d be good at it,” she replied.
Bear with me. I’ll probably delete something by mistake. I’ll probably mis-tag something, violate some obscure, (or not so obscure) grammar rule, and, given my history (see “spewing” comments above), it is highly likely that one day I will accidentally write something that has some sort of unintentional sexual innuendo. It’s one of the risks in the art of spewing.