It is a bright but chill day. It feels like fall only we’ve arrived at the end of August. It’s as though the changing of the seasons has begun in earnest, yet we’re all still hankering for a little more summer. During my lunch hour today I decided to take refuge at Bridgehead, avoiding any flirtation with fall. So I retreated into my writing.
This has been a good week. I’ve been rewriting a novella and, at times, the writing has felt stiff and hard. While the writing edged forward, I felt like it was going nowhere. This week that all changed. There’s been an ebb and flow to the writing. I immersed myself completely into the work, and the story came alive, and me with it.
It has been a good week for another reason: the ravaging, tear-inducing lows of a couple of weeks ago have dissipated. As the song goes, “I can see clearly now the rain is gone.”
This has been a good week. I’ve been rewriting a novella and, at times, the writing has felt stiff and hard. While the writing edged forward, I felt like it was going nowhere. This week that all changed. There’s been an ebb and flow to the writing. I immersed myself completely into the work, and the story came alive, and me with it.
It has been a good week for another reason: the ravaging, tear-inducing lows of a couple of weeks ago have dissipated. As the song goes, “I can see clearly now the rain is gone.”
No comments:
Post a Comment