I had a glorious day! Granted, I'm a hermity individual who finds comfort in listening to the same song on repeat, scribbling in a notebook, walking in the snow, and later drinking wine with friends, so it's perhaps easy for me to have glorious days. But today was truly excellent. I woke up sometime before eight, caught up on tings, got dressed, ate breakfast, grabbed a latte across the street, and then settled in for some productivity. I brainstormed, read some stuff about the English parliamentary system, and wrote approximately seven pages - all of which felt so good, and I'm so excited for this book now (even though I still don't totally know what I'm doing with it...but I'm remembering that that's normal for me).
At some point in there, I took a break and ate lunch and talked to other writers, so that was lovely. Then I worked for a bit, took a nap, went across the street to buy a few things for dinner, and came back to talk to my parents. They were in fine form despite having spent several hours not smoking in a car with my grandmother (who is/was/is a lovely woman, but even I sometimes want a cigarette after two hours with her...or maybe I shouldn't say that here, but I'm leaving it). As is usual, I was the only family member who missed Easter dinner at Uncle Mark's, which made me sad...but not so sad that I would have sacrificed my writing retreat for it, which probably makes me even more of a horrible person than the comment about my grandmother.
sssanyway. I talked to my parents, and then I went over to the other house and made chicken tortilla soup for all of us for dinner. It turned out fantastically well, and I enjoyed the process of cooking + all the amazing talking and stories we exchanged over soup and wine as the snow fell outside. Writers are generally a strange bunch, and this group (myself included) is no different...but I feel really lucky to be here, and I'm excited to dig into the story during the days and keep building friendships at night.
And on that unusually sappy (for me) note, I'm going to bed. Goodnight!
At some point in there, I took a break and ate lunch and talked to other writers, so that was lovely. Then I worked for a bit, took a nap, went across the street to buy a few things for dinner, and came back to talk to my parents. They were in fine form despite having spent several hours not smoking in a car with my grandmother (who is/was/is a lovely woman, but even I sometimes want a cigarette after two hours with her...or maybe I shouldn't say that here, but I'm leaving it). As is usual, I was the only family member who missed Easter dinner at Uncle Mark's, which made me sad...but not so sad that I would have sacrificed my writing retreat for it, which probably makes me even more of a horrible person than the comment about my grandmother.
sssanyway. I talked to my parents, and then I went over to the other house and made chicken tortilla soup for all of us for dinner. It turned out fantastically well, and I enjoyed the process of cooking + all the amazing talking and stories we exchanged over soup and wine as the snow fell outside. Writers are generally a strange bunch, and this group (myself included) is no different...but I feel really lucky to be here, and I'm excited to dig into the story during the days and keep building friendships at night.
And on that unusually sappy (for me) note, I'm going to bed. Goodnight!
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