Order of the Good Write

That Magic Feeling When the Words Flow. A Blog by Debi Rotmil


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Lost in the Retrograde

Screenshot 2015-09-16 13.21.15Hey Mercury Retrograde and all things divine and spiritual. I believed in you. I believed in intention and clearing out space to make room for the next wondrous thing to come. I stayed full of intention with a dose of detachment, kept my mind to the point, left room for anything goes. I was open to the possibilities and the magic, the pain and the learning. The beauty of change and the openness to new beginnings. I did my work. I put my head down and kept plugging away, not concerned with the outcome.

But you lost me. My desire for writing and building my own create life has drifted and popped. I’m left gazing at the sky and listening to Bon Iver’s Re:Stacks until 2am, until my brain feels like it’s levitating from my head. I wander, listening to Spotify playlists lined up with songs that are cusp tunes – music that hits the twilight of the mind…that skips on the rim between thought and love. Yet…nothing stimulates the desire to do a damn thing about my life anymore.

I get it. You have to pull things into gear to align things, and it takes time. But is that what you really do? Or is this just a world filled with free will and no God/Universe – void of Mercury Retrograde excuses preventing us from working or making us not feel it.

Look at it all.  My New York ever changing, and me, in Los Angeles, going adrift, money rushing out of my accounts, pining for NYC home where I’m going to have to start all over again –  to find the key to this expensive place to let me back in again. Maybe I can fool it?

Me at NYC’s door: [knock…knock]

NYC:  Who’s there and how much money do you have?

Me: Umm…candygram.

NYC: Graham? Graham who?

Me: Uhhhhh….land shark.

Guess that old SNL trick isn’t going to work.

So, Mercury or whatever the hell you are. You go into retrograde today and all those things where electronics don’t work and things go wrong are supposed to take hold are swirling. But that happened to me weeks ago. I’m tired of the universe, and I’m shaking my fist in the air. Taking a cue from Trent Reznor, “There is no fucking YOU, there is only me. Only.”

Ayn Rand…let’s have a talk.


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Maybe It’s Mercury in Retrograde?

MercuryMaybe it’s because Mercury is in retrograde?

I’m in the final stages of getting my book out; yet, I feel like I’m swimming in mud, slowly churning things out – procrastinating on the massive action I need to make this book happen.

I’m mildly into astrology. Not the daily Horoscope you read in the tabloids or online. No. I believe in it on a larger scale. Planets align causing various degrees of energy fields and forceful pulls. Who are we to say that this isn’t connected to a scientific cause in our make up or the way our week is going? After all, the moon has such a pull on us as proven by tides on the shore. Full moons cause certain moon swings and strange feelings. The invisible waves of energy must mean something. After all, Earth turns in a force field that prevents it from hurling into space like a speeding ball of blue water and clouds.

Sometimes when I feel this strange undertow of fear or reticence, I’d like to take the burden off my own self inflicted actions and blame it on the stars.

However, I can be lazy. And what causes that laziness? Fear.  A flurry of questions stir up. Does this book read well to other people? (I have a few friends who’ve read it – haven’t given it to beta readers because I was concerned the criticism would deter me.) Will there be typos I don’t see? When I changed the name of certain characters, did I replace each mention of the name with the new one? Worry. I almost feel as though I carry this British trait of embarrassment, as I send off these stories I created over the course of the year.

“Um, excuse me. Sorry to bother. But, I wrote this little book, you see. You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to. But I’d really like you to,” I whisper politely has I bid you adieu as I huddle in the corner.

But no.  This is silly. I’m proud to get this book out there. It’s just that there is much, so much to be done. And I don’t know where to start.

Oh, and I’ve officially entitled my book “Hitting Water: A Book of Stories”. A little change that feels better to me.

So you can see – things are ever changing. I just need to know when to stop tinkering and just let go.

Perhaps I should have faith in the stars?