Sunday, April 15, 2012
Writing here has meant rewriting here, taking things apart. It has required long walks and a settling in above the old laptop at 3 AM or 4 each day; I was here, after all, to write. I had better make use of the days. Clients await me. The final projects of my beloved Penn students. Reviews. A contest or two to judge. A son's graduation. Interviews. Small Damages. If I couldn't do it here, I wouldn't do it at all. I felt the pressure immensely.
This morning, at this hour, the book isn't done. It is, however, intimately understood and my anxiety is gone. There will be a storm here later today; in the gray dawn outside the waves are churning. I will always be grateful to Beach Haven for letting me breathe, for restoring my own faith in me. And I will always be grateful to my husband, too, who gave me room to work, who heard me, weeks and weeks ago, when I said, "I'd give anything for just a few, spare writing days."