OK, I’ve been terrible about the Daily Tao. You get in a habit, then you get out of the habit, and boom — no blogs for a week.
But here I am.
And there were words today.
They happened late. They happened unexpectedly. And there were a lot of them. I don’t know what, exactly, broke the drought, but 2700 in 2 hours later, I could have cried in relief.
A week of no writing freaks me out. A day here, a day there, eh, that’s the nature of the beast. But a week of staring at the page means something is wrong. Oddly, while there's usually a simple reason for this--the story is going in the wrong direction--that wasn't the case. The story is fine. The characters are fine. The setting and timing - all fine.
It was just me.
So many changes in the house, so many boxes and bags and worry and selections and phone calls and email (much more of that than I'm used to, too), planning for birthdays and vacations and conferences and tours, editing secret projects, dealing with a kitten who got into some chicken, to which she’s allergic, and vet visits for steroids and antihistamines, shows to prep for, family and friends and gym visits, and, and, and…
I think there’s just been too much noise around.
And I have to forgive myself for that. Because, sometimes, despite your best efforts, life happens. It happens around you, in you, and to you.
So. Chicken stew on the stove, a non-itchy kitten, boxes broken down and in my trunk, paintings hung, laundry finished.
And words, written.
I feel like I can finally breathe again.