I've returned from the Bay Area refreshed and renewed (mentally) and exhausted (physically) - I know, it sounds nearly impossible, but it can be achieved if you stay up late many nights having fabulous conversations with your family about art and politics and literature. Mind=awash in new ideas for stories. Body=fatigued and in need of a proper night's sleep. All in good time, I'm sure.
There are many projects crossing my desk these days - some sound so exciting that I wish to dive in and yet I must restrain myself. I must remind myself not to take on too much new work. Why? It is time to hunker down and get back to the writing. The wedding is past, phase one of the honeymoon is over, a few family events are now behind me and all I see ahead are open days. Or, well, open nights. Or...really, open pockets of time. But hey, pockets of time where there were previously no open pockets of time is something. Something indeed. Something to take advantage of before those pockets fill up with more projects that seem like a good idea but then end up taking up too much precious time.
I've even got several ideas in my head. They've persisted for days and weeks, living a secret life in my head. Characters have already done things in my mind that surprise me, with nary a word on paper. That never happens!
And so - on this first day of "open pocket time" (which I might cheekily refer to as O.P.T from now on), I have taken full advantage of all that O.P.T offers. I've nabbed it and wrestled with it and enjoyed it. As such, I've got a few words on the page, but not much in the way of litblog posts.
I will, however, offer up the week in readings at LAist. (I'm good for something, you see...) Since I'm still enjoying O.P.T, I won't belabor the point. But, I will say, ahem...it seems the collective Los Angeles scheduling universe could have done better with Wednesday.
That is all.
