After the Storm: Peace. Well, Relative Peace

Down By The Creek

 Every January, despite that whole, yay-it’s-a-fresh-new-year thing, I feel this urge to go on a writer’s retreat. Or just retreat. Not exactly sure which. Because I grew up around mountains and creeks, (cricks) this is generally where I imagine myself summoning the Muse (or using the crick to drown out my whining).

I have yet to actually retreat. And there’s my ongoing (and totally delightful) #GrandmaProject that I want to flee TO, not away FROM. I love the grand babies more than Muse (get over it, Muse).

One of the reasons I have not retreated, I think, is that most formal retreats aren’t what I’d call retreating. They want you to gather in the evening and talk about your writing. My writing is like Fight School. I don’t talk about it, at least not until I’m done with the project. And there is my Hermit Thing.

Finish reading this post on my blog. :-)

Pauline Baird Jones

Perilously romantic fiction for armchair adventurers

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