I'm getting ready to go visit my sister for the weekend which has to be the worst timing ever since my new book releases Monday and I have things to do.
I'm looking forward to the drive. If I know my daughter, chances are she'll doze in the car and I'll have quiet time during a three hour drive. Quiet time to let my mind wander and ponder and then before I know it, I'll have scenes and conversations rooting in my head and a book to be written.
I was remembering how the most productive time of writing used to be when I had a long commute so I had all that quiet time. Its the readying of the field for planting. I can't write if my mind has no time to wander.
I remember a long time ago I was walking downtown to a bus stop and everything that caught my eye I'd figure out how to make a story from it. A couple talking, a lamp post with crumpled paper at its base, a store front.
I feel like my life has changed and I don't have those quiet moments anymore. I'm always rushing. There's something to do, somewhere to go. And if I'm not moving then I'm worrying about bills and chores and work. There's no time to sit and let the world go away.
I miss the quiet in my own mind, Carolyn.