Workshop Time is an entity unto itself. Sometimes it feels as though I’ve been here for a week; other times, I want to refer to my reading as “last night.” The days blur, stretch, compress, expand. How many times have we walked on the beach? Which night did I toss and turn? How can I still have so many sandwich fixings but no milk?
I’m also trying to consider, each day, what motivates me here. What positive influences I can take home that drive me to the computer day after day. (Don’t get me wrong: I love writing. I can’t not write. But sometimes I avoid it, and I need to figure out why so I can stop doing it. The fear moves constantly. Bastard.)
Today Leslie and I woke about the same time, so we chatted during breakfast (about epic fantasy and religion and Kris’s books and, briefly, boobs), then we made tea (I brought my electric kettle). Now we’ve both retreated to our corners to sip tea and work, after which we’ll shower (not together, you pervs) and continue on. We’ll meet with Dean at The Hilltop for a session at 2 p.m., at which point we need to have our assignments done.
What would I be doing at home? Sipping tea and reading blogs, most likely. I’m not getting a strong enough wireless signal here in the cabin, although I did pop e-mail on my phone this morning. (Got some preliminary good news about a positive review, and my writing alias e-mail spammed my home e-mail address. Go figure.)
Now, to my assignment, one that made me giggle out loud more than once while I was working last night….