Fall ing

fall in boiseIt has been a quiet week in my little corner of the world. Fall has finally won the battle over summer. Finally cool crisp mornings greet me and tuck me in the past few days. The leaves take turns breaking free from their trees and float down on the gentle breeze. Shades of gold, red, orange and green leaves give one last spectacular twirl and help define autumn as they grace lawns, streets and hillsides.

This fall weather has put me in a fine mood, I do some of my best writing when it’s cold outside. When it’s warmer, I would rather take part in outdoor activities, but with the cold, well, I just want to curl up and write.

And I’m in the thick of it this week. I’ve woken up early every day this week, my fingers itching to get back to work.

I make my coffee, a cappuccino, it’s a process that takes me about five minutes and there is a methodical rhythm to it. Stove top espresso maker is put on the stove, milk in the pitcher and heated, I let the dog out and brush my teeth. Foam the milk and set it aside. Pull out one of my well-worn coffee cups complete with saucer, because why not treat myself nice? One teaspoon of sugar, espresso, foamy milk.


I turn on a little chamber music, Classical Baroque stuff, and make a fire. (Aka: flip the switch for the gas fireplace.) Then it’s time to cuddle up with my hardworking friend, my computer.

I named my computer a long time ago. My family names things. Each car has always had a name, my folks call their Navigation system Zuzu, so why not name a computer. The first laptop I ever owned I called Oubliette. I’m on Miss Oubliette 3.0.

An Oubliette is a hole in the ground that typically has only one entrance and exit, usually a trap door. An Oubliette in French literally means “Forgotten place” so many castles soon had fashionable Oubliettes in their dungeons, “a place of forgetting.”

Oubliette seemed like an apropos name for my little old laptop for a few reasons. I love strange historical facts. Because of the number of stories I’ve begun, am not feeling and leave behind to never be given a second thought. And also, because when I am in the thick of it, when the writing comes for a place close to feeling like I’m possessed, my computer truly becomes a world in itself, everything else forgotten.

The past few mornings I can’t get to my lap top fast enough. Some days are like that, other days I dilly dally, checking emails, Pinterest, bank balances. Procrastinating until it’s time to struggle through some prose.

Then, then there are days like the past week. I’m an obsessed teenage girl again, I can’t think of anything else. I eat, drink, dream of my story. I just want to sit down and write. The words come from my muse, my head, my heart. Something has become unburdened, unblocked and I don’t give a good damn about anything else except this story that has taken hold and won’t let go. And I don’t want I to let go.

I’ve been up late for the past three nights, I’ve slept awfully because the story is stuck inside my blood stream, I can’t wait for the daily humdrum of life to cease so I can get back to the writing at hand.

There is a monster of clean clothes spilling from beneath three laundry baskets. I’m not interested in doing any housework. I’m not interested in much except writing, really.

This morning, I open my file and the words flow, and I love the characters and I can see the story, straight through to the end. The conflict, the adventure, the romance, the humor, the darkness.

My muse seems to have returned from her vacation, she’s content to linger nearby.

I blame the weather, the muse, the timing, the alignment of the stars, but really, I don’t care. Every cell in my blood stream is tingling and willing to participate in the obsessive writing lately and that’s just fine by me.

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