First week, done. Reading aloud, done. Walking in the blue hour, magical. This is just before the snow started fall again, gently and whispering. I was nervous, but I survived.
The creative process, being immersed without interruption, is so much different than scribbling poems on feed receipts while pulled over on the side of the road waiting for gravel graders to pass the intersection. Not better, but different. This first week was learning to walk on the bottom of the ocean and not drown.
Also, the days become marked in passage by the rapt attention to meal times and the promise of sweet things for dessert. We all emerge it seems, on the dot of the clock, drooling and ready for nourishment and maybe too the company of others after being alone with our own muse for hours on end? Summer camp for introverts?
I must run now, mealtime is in 7 minutes and I have to walk in the freezing rain to get there on time......