ieva melgalve

First, thanks for the good wishes, folks – I’m remarkably better. I’m, actually, too good, come to think of it – I managed to get healthy enough to promptly stir up my personal life in ways I shouldnt’ve done.
However, that taught me not only some “maybe you don’t wanna do this” things I’m not sharing here; it taught (more like reminded) me also the fact that I feel, in a weird way, more comfortable in messed up situations than I do in stable ones.
I feel better when writing as far as my headlights go instead of consulting a map of outline.
I feel better during recession than during corporate headbutting in economically safer times.
I feel better when I’m uncertain about my relationships than when I plan buying a country house for us when we’re 70.
I feel better when my kids are misbehaving, when they’re quiet I wonder whether they’re sick or sad or doing something forbidden.
I feel better working in an ever-stressful advertising agency than I do, say, translating a book.
So I’m thinking, if I feel so good in collapsing, messed up and awkward situations, then probably I shouldn’t fall into mass hysteria of “literary market is collapsing, nobody reads books and if they do they don’t pay for them” but instead embrace this situation and feel great about it. After all, I write non-conventional stuff (which should be doing better in non-conventional situation), and I’m just starting. Whatever I do, it’s going to go better from this point on. And, this being a crazy time, I can try out things that work better for me, make more sense to me and doesn’t mess with my writing.
The people who say they know what’s going on and how to proceed are just as lost as I am. But unlike me they have dignity to lose.
Me? I know (from recent experience) that I’ll be making blunders anyway. So better to make ones I enjoy making.