First there were these occasional side glances. Then full eye-contact. Then a few casual conversations. Then a heart flutter. Then some more chat. A small hit of adrenaline, a few deeply felt moments. After a few months, it’s official. I’ve fallen hard.
So, please, if you’re talking to me and I’m not quite looking at you, if I’m staring off into the middle distance, I’m thinking about her. And her. And him. And a stretch of beach. Maybe some mountains. Probably a boat. And an airplane? Little two-seater Cessna? Yes! And some bad guys. And big trouble in the wings. And maybe somebody dies.
A new project is pushing its way out of my brain, through my fingers, onto a page.
I’m in love. This book will be fabulous. These characters, the best ever. The quest they’re on, genious. I’m consumed by love of it all right now. Later the early choices I make on this project will start constraining what can happen next. And the joy will ease off and the work will ease on. And then it will get really worky. And I’ll get frustrated. Then I’ll be in the horse latitudes of writing.
But I will remember (although I almost always forget) that being open and curious and in the moment — in my today body and my today brain — and willing to wait and listen, these attributes will ease me through the horse lattitudes. But I’m not there yet. I’m here now. In love.
Writing. Lord, what a ride!
Susan Palmer's Exquisite Now 