This post comes from our writing session in today's workshop. (If you were there, you'll notice that in the interests of time I didn't post all of it when we were discussing what we wrote.)

I still see nothing special in this little piece, while everyone at the workshop seemed to enjoy it very much. I take it as a lesson that perhaps we shouldn't be judging what we write at all. At least not in terms of how people will receive it. We need to study the craft and improve technique, but when it comes to a finished, edited, proofread product, you just really have no idea who it may appeal to until you send it out and let it touch people. There is no way I would have readily shared this piece with others. I have a lot like it that never even make it here because they emerge in longhand and I deem them not worth the effort to type and post.

That's the thing about writing. The more you do it, the more you learn.

Love your writing!!

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It's time to be still. I've read three different books this week in which there were segments touting the exercise of writing in the moment--about where you are, what you're feeling. It's a heavy day. The skys are full of clouds and it's impossible to tell where one starts and another stops. Still, they are thin, because it's bright. That white bright that hurts the eyes, not the gentle light of fireflies. Heh, poet go away. Those words are wanting to be used. The wind is an entity all it's own, making the cover on the stove vent bang and rattle, and the trees hiss as their leaves stir and brush each other. Things are shifting and changing and the humidity pressing down. It's prime ingredients for storms. My eyes are heavy too. My head feels foggy and my right wrist aches. I can't get myself in gear today. Yesterday was marvelous. I got more done yesterday than I get done in a week sometimes, but I think I'm paying the price. At any way--that was then. Here and now. George Shrinks is blaring on the Educational TV channel and my youngest is complaining because he wants a grilled cheese sandwhich but they're better when I make them. This translates into "better" because he can sit and watch George Shrinks while I make the sandwich. It has little to do with taste. I'm thirsty. I want a nice tall glass of water with ice, but I have a tooth that's going to need attention as soon as I get back from the writer's conference this weekend. It's aching today as well. Or maybe it's just sinus trouble affecting the tooth, but I have serious doubts. That's just hoping. I want to forget everything that needs to be done between now and then and just get everything together I want to take. I'm setting limits this year. I generally pack more gear and books and paper than I do clothes for these things. I am dying to crack open the laptop in a room that is completely still and just type until I'm ready to quit. No one needing my "expert" grilled cheese sandwiches or wondering if I know where their socks happen to have landed, or why the shirt that's on the floor in their bedroom didn't make it into the washing machine. The list of things to do around here is endless and intrusive if you're trying to get some creating done. It's nice not to have to fight them once in awhile. It's a real "out of sight, out of mind" slight of hand. (Is that the right "slight"? Doesn't seem like it.) Ah, George is over. The house has fallen rather silent except for hubby (cranky) and son (bored, but helpful. He's taking dishes to the dishwasher.) Everyone wonders why I'm just sitting here typing (forgot it's workshop day) and of course wants to talk. We got such a late start today that it feels more like noon than 2:00--and time to stop.