The semester is fantastic, teaching fiction writing a gift beyond reason. I knew I loved teaching, but teaching this activates my better--best self as teacher.
Caught up in versions of self lately. The life of teaching--reactivated after a summer at rest. Now the writer-me sleeps, rests, restless in the back of my mind. Melody (my character in novel 2) is whispering to me. Trying to tell me things, but I can't listen now. Love (or the possibility of love) activates it all--me at highest volume, all parts screaming to be heard. A tangle of selves that surely isn't just noise. A chorus maybe. Singing gospel.
Thank you for making me think. Giving the writer-me a moment to breathe, and drink in what you wrote.
Cheers
*go to my friend's blog for the inspiration to this: http://spectorgant.blogspot.com/
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment