I've been home 4 days now and it's been an unusual return. First, it's been hotter than a sweat lodge since I got back, after months of cool, rainy weather. All of us are lethargic and cranky with this sudden change. Second, I got a new kitten on Tuesday, Franny, and she's little and cute and time-consuming (for more info, see http://www.sobertruths.blogspot.com/). Third, my computer picked up a virus Thursday afternoon and is at the repair shop (my fingers are crossed that it can be fixed). Add to this two groups, three coaching appointments, some new client inquiries, three small but immediate jobs and one big project for a client, and it's been a busy time.
But I'm committed to staying with my story so the after a short night with Jessie on Wednesday morning at 4, I settled in and wrote another chapter. That went so well that yesterday, I sat down at 5 to do the same thing. Didn't happen. I punched out a few lackluster paragraphs but there was little juice in them. I felt stymied. What made the difference?
Here it is: On Monday driving back, my friend Tamara and I drove in silence for more than 2 hours. I had time to think about the next chapter and what might happen. But the rest of the day Wednesday, I didn't get--nor did I take--any time to think about where the story might go, what might happen next, to run through all the possibilities and pick one to write.
And I'm seeing that that part of the retreat, the hours of silence to walk and lie in the hammock and stare at the garden, where I was able to keep the story living within me, will be hard to come by, much harder than the writing time. Something I'm going to have to sort out.