Write Write Write

The last few days have been getting away from me. After months of rain, this island is lying under a great blue bowl at the moment. I should not say that out loud as the ocean has very good hearing and will ship over a thick bank of grey fuzz to stop up the blue hole in the sky.

There were five months (although I was not here for them) of rain--do people know this when they sign up in droves to get married in Hawaii? I think the tourist board leaves out such information. Vera Wang and wet sand do not mix. And so now--the summer. There have been friends visiting, old friends getting together, new friends going to the beach, and a subtle frenzy to each day. It has been lovely, companionable and not conducive to working. In order to get lots done my day has to duplicate the last. Sleep, write, eat, write, teach, read, beach, repeat.

For me a steady footprint of repetition is road to an evenly threaded working week. A racing, running, burst of inspiration--while fun and productive--can also derail my little red wagon. Good books, good friends, good weather--my wagon gets derailed very easily. So, back to routine. My small green flash pot of fresh ideas seems to like routine. It is like holding absolutely still so that the neighbor's unsocial cat will come and lie against your legs.