This is my 50th post. And I’m nervous. Not about it being my 50th post but because on Wednesday I am heading off to the desert for two weeks to write. More specifically, to a small artsy retreat in a little town in New Mexico where there will be not much else to do other than write. And that makes me nervous. Full-time work is a good excuse for not being as productive as one would like to be. One can be snotty about it even, acting like, of course, if one didn’t have to work then one could be churning out beautiful prose and stunning well paced plots left and right. Easy, peasey, just this silly work stuff weighing one down.
But now I’ll have a solid block of time to write and it is freaking me out. Because there are no excuses, and I’m afraid I’ll just end up eating waffles and napping the whole time. Which actually sounds pretty amazing on its own merits but isn’t really the point of the thing. In a sense this is a way to pretend that writing is my job for two weeks and I’m afraid it will turn out that I’m not really cut out for it. That time won’t cure my plot problems and my, at times, saggy prose. That instead of emerging triumphant, I’ll emerge disappointed in myself and feeling like maybe I should shuffle back in time to when I didn’t write at all and just stay there.
Writing notes: Oh, I don’t know. See above.
Reading notes: Changing it up and reading a graphic novel: The Gigantic Beard That Was Evil. It is so beautiful it hurts. All the drawings are stunning, even the little tiny ones that are the size of a thumbprint. I’ve also been buying a lot of books for my trip and trying not to start reading them early, which has been difficult. Fortunately, I have the discipline of a very disciplined person and I have contented myself with only drooling on their covers.