Proof that I actually got some writing done while at Wellspring

By Hand

I had never really believed that retreating from my computer, my television, my ipod, my usual desk and routines and bad habits would facilitate good writing. I thought I needed all that in order to write.

At first, my hand felt stiff and sore as I wrote, even though I used one of my most effortless and fluid fountain pens. Surely my hand couldn't keep up with my brain's barrage of imagery and great plotting. Surely I would lose ideas and feel frustrated, sketching notes down at best!

Wrong.

My brain slowed down and matched the rhythm of my hand. The words that came out seemed connected by a silver thread from my hand to the creative ether--they positively radiated light, they were so much different, like quicksilver. They didn't embarrass me the way so many first draft words do.

Then I was sure that I could only keep up an hour or two of writing per day, and what would I do with the rest of the time there? I just knew I was going to get bored. Saturday--the first full day--it rained, no it poured, ALL DAY. This was, of course, perfect, because it meant I could not go out and run around or dawdle outside in weak winter sun. I had to write. And, guess what? I wanted to write. Writing made more of itself. The more my pen scribbled ink, the more the ideas flowed. I didn't experience a lick of boredom.

Silence filled me. Fire get me burning.

Of course I have to thank the lovely Marlene for facilitating quiet in our little hobbit cabin.

That's Jodi Hottel on the left, Susan Bono in the middle and Marlene Cullen, mistress of my muse, on the right.