So, it’s been a week. You know the kind – you charge from one urgent task to another, hit every damn stoplight, and everything else goes wrong too. To top it off, I was one of three people in charge of a big event for our writers cooperative – a three-day display and sales opportunity at a home show that typically draws about 10,000 people.


So we planned to set it up like a library/bookstore (our collective fantasy place). Matthew hauled six large bookcases from his home; I contributed three more, plus plants and a homey-looking wooden table. Toni made signs and organized raffle baskets. Along with 12 other authors, we set up inviting displays of books from multiple genres.

It was gorgeous. We sold some books and along with the other writers, talked to about a million people. (If you were one of them, Hi there!)

And then the crowds went away; we hauled our stuff home and I collapsed. After a week of sales and setup, I needed to write. 

I needed to contact the other bookstores where we had events scheduled.

I needed to fully embrace my vegetative state.

I slept in, which helped. I ate chocolate, which helped some more. And then I went outside.

Today is a perfect fall day – the leaves are crinkling into hues of red and yellow, a breeze is lifting the air, and the sky is clear, clear blue. An eagle screamed high above me. Clouds drifted by. I simply stood and reveled in creation.

Characters who had slipped into the Big Sleep began to stir and whisper in my ears. My dogs who had spent too much time waiting for me to come home, bounded and barked. They splashed through the pond, shaking a downpour of cold droplets all over me, awakening the forgotten excitement of pure physical sensation. I swished though overgrown grass and gazed at the cathedral of interlaced branches in the woods, smelled the scent of fall leaves underfoot. Later, I curled up with a book, hot drink steaming beside me, dogs flopped around my feet, and rediscovered silence.

The only voice was my own. And then, the beloved voices of my characters spoke to me. Their lives, experiences and the colors of their existence crossed into my awareness. Like a magician, I could once again travel between worlds and adventures.

I began to write…