Already missing time

Monday, January 3, 2011

For seven days it was mine:  time.  I woke (meaning I slept!), I read, I wrote, I cooked, I took long walks with my son, I watched movies with my husband, I finessed my syllabus for Penn, I saw and talked to friends.  It was otherworldly—a strange, delirious slow—and inside that time I came upon an understanding of story that I had not had before, found a way to write a novel that has eluded me for years:  one thing at a time, and don't forget the poems, and remember the canal, remember the boy, K, remember the dancer.  16,000 words into this new novel, and I would give anything for another week, or two, of time, another 16,000 words.

But the e-mails come in.  Responsibilities.

6 comments:

Q said...

I know the feeling.

Becca said...

I wish I could give you the gift of time to create your beautiful worlds on paper.

Lilian Nattel said...

I want another week, too.

Kelly H-Y said...

What a phenomenal start to your novel ... here's hoping you find some time here and there to finish it!

Beth F said...

A good start to the new year!

KFP said...

Oh, yes. I know exactly how you feel. This is my life as well.

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