Ah, being able to write on the porch of my favorite café on a MARCH morning! Even if I was distracted by construction equipment. My dad used to love watching that sort of thing, and I found myself taking photos as if I could show him.
I did manage to write a couple of poems, the bones of them, anyway.
It was wonderful, as always, to see the signs of spring out and about. Does a heart good.
I also made a trip to the library today. This week I have read three short novels; spring is perfect for quick reads. But having finished one today (a little gem), I wanted more.
There’s something about cruising the new reads shelves that is thrilling. You mean I can take as many books home as I like and keep them until I’ve read them? Best. Date. Ever. LOL.
Here’s a photo of my stack. Don’t judge – I take chances on books from the library that I might not otherwise read. There are a couple in this stack that I’m not sure about. Bet you can guess which ones. But we’ll see.
As I left the library, a young woman was pruning the flowers and basil, and she handed me two yellow flowers of her own accord. Such a sweet gesture.
Part of me feels guilty reading so much, but part of me is very aware that this is filling-the-well season. When I start reading deeply, it’s because my writing asks for it. As you can imagine, this also makes me want to get back to writing my novel.
Reading a novel is like climbing inside of someone’s mind. While it’s a highly curated version, it’s also intimate. (That could be its own blogpost.)
Right now, I’m thinking about novels and white space, an important topic that I’m grateful was brought to my attention. John Green just touched on this on his podcast this week as well as an aside, so I need to sit down and capture my thoughts on it. Not today, which was a vapor of a day.
Word Raccoon says white space sounds boring as hell. What does she know? She’s too busy feasting her eyes on spring and all it brings to life.
Can’t say I blame her.
dremadrudge.com 