In the two weeks prior to the Cafe and this week following, I’ve been able to do no writing. Zero. Understandable, I guess. There were hundreds of details to manage in putting the Cafe together, and that’s time consuming, as you may well imagine. But it wasn’t the fact that I had no time to write, but that I had no time to quiet down to get into a state where I could write. “Going quiet” is a very important part of my writing process. If I can’t quiet the inner chatter of my mind, I can’t let in the other voices who so desperately want to speak, who want to tell their story, or have me tell it for them.
So today, I’m going to get caught up on my accounts (months in arrears!) and tomorrow, I’m doing actual housework (months and months in arrears! I know, I deserve a swift kick in arrears!). Then it’s church on Sunday, and starting Monday I’m sliding down the rabbit hole. Incommunicado. Can’t be reached. In hiding. Locked in a room to converse with creatures of my own imagination. That last one sounds a tad mentally ill, but hey I’m a writer. That’s sort of my job description. And I’m hoping my up-to-date accounts and clean house will provide some evidence of mental health.
Dontcha think?
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