travel

there, now that is done, the wordsintofood drive is over and I have to say, for a first time effort we did rather well and much better than expected. Our thanks go out to all of you who participated through purchases, donations and other forms of support.To give you an idea, compared to what was spent to mount the campaign we raised 560% more than that.


We also learned a lot about the nature of doing things like this online. WordsintoFood was kind of a test run to see what could be done and how to do it. So we will sit and mull things over and reshape a few things and then be back later this year with another city on our list.


I managed to spend 5 solid hours deep in the city of love yesterday. I resurfaced only to crash into a spastic nap for 2 hours and then spent the rest of the evening sort of - - wandering around and trying to reconnect with the rest of my life and what needs to be done.


I didn't think it was going to go that way at all. At first, facing a day with a large block of writing time available, I started doing that kind of mad puttering that covers both fear and procrastination. Then something broke free and I sit and just wrote.


I find that I am enjoying writing Maaila, the character of the Universe, far more then I expected. But truly, nothing is funner then writing the bickering between the ocean and the waves.


What I need to find is what to do AFTER an intense visit to the city. I mean, I am too tired to keep going, but wired too and just have a hard time settling down into things.


And one odd thing I noticed is the pattern I am developing in relation to the writer's group and the deadlines. The first week after - I write nothing, but just consider the next part of the narrative. The second week I start to take mad notes about all the holes in the story line and where they need to be filled fo rthings to make sense, the third week is nothing but wall to wall writing and editing --yet I also know exactly where I will stop. The fourth week, I submit the section and don't give it another thought.


I have also learned that the poetic equivalent of 3,000 words seems to be 1500; but this time around I think I have far exceeded that.


Ugh, I tried, I tried to subtly shift the Mad Kitten's flannel nest to the bed but she stewed and stared when she came in. Instead, I built her a better nest back where it was and returned her things. She came over in the middle of the night and stood on my neck and purred and bit my nose before going back to her aerie.



c.2010. Cassandra Tribe