Despite the welcome distractions of holiday gatherings, great food, first snow, and the unwelcome first winter bug, I'm percolating with writing projects. That weekend in Silver Cliff taught me a thing or two that I needed to know about my own process. I really do profit from quiet, so I still rise early to write before the daily stuff of life can intrude, but I no longer reach immediately for the radio. Music, which I love, keeps my mind from wandering, from the free association and focus that it takes for me to be creative. I miss the sound but I'm loving the increase in words on paper/screen. Even allowing for a couple of days under the evil influence of a stomach virus/head cold, I have produced a new short-short, 800 words of a new non-fiction project that will be a collaborative effort, revised another handful of poems, and sent out a batch of submissions.
Not bad for an old lady! Today I will put together a packet for an on-line venue, by invitation! Then I need to find a market for a short story about a ghost horse. And update my rejection/acceptance lists. This is the writing business, always a mix of surprise in the new work and determination in getting the rest out to the readers who complete the process. This is why I left my paid work behind; this is what I have envisioned for most of my adult life. And to think, I just had to turn down the volume to turn up the heat.