Pressure Cooker

Honestly, it can happen. The pressure of 17 concurrent client projects (so many moving parts, so many open computer files, so many business languages and discrete technicalities). The yearning for time not just to dream about a novel, but to write it. The phone, that rings and rings.

You need to get away. You need to drive.

Yesterday, toward sunset, I said, Please. Please can we get the one car with the bigger wheels going? Can we disappear, for just an hour, to horse country?

We did.

I still woke up with a choke in my throat. But I began yesterday with a walk and ended it with a drive. And that is something.

Read more...

My Main Line Home

The snow is high past my knees, and many of the roads here are not yet plowed, but this morning, with a bad case of cabin fever, I set out. I think I live in one of the world's prettiest places. It's not exotic. It's not nearly perfect. I don't often belong. But when snow falls and wind blows I can walk within 30 minutes to a scene like this—all open space and blue. I can count the stripes between the trees, and I can talk to myself about the novel I am writing or about a problem that is tricking through my mind.

I passed just five cars in a 90 minute walk this morning. The silence was gorgeous.

Read more...