Writing is all about habit. I recently moved house and with the move I somehow left my old writing habits behind. Or so it seems. The fact is I’ve had two non-fiction book assignments in a row and my true love has had to wait.
My house didn’t come with a writing nook. It was a tough market this year and finding some kind of suitable domicile before my apartment lease was up proved a trick for which I wasn’t prepared. I thought there would be lots of choices, but instead it was catch as catch can. Writing nooks weren’t in this year.
Still, my usual chair was still available and I settled in to try my morning writing. I had a story accepted for publication—the first time in over a year—and I realized that what I was missing was the drawing in of new material. I need to see how other people live.
There’s a bar within walking distance. A trendy one that serves only local brews. There I noticed the beard was back. I have an old-growth beard myself, more of the Hemingway variety than the more trendy bald-on-top, hirsute-below model. I also spied a tattooed young lady who’d’ve made Bradbury pen The Illustrated Woman. So that’s what other people do.
My designated driver took me down a country lane dotted with stone houses. Not the kind that have faux stone panels that speak of false premises, but the old variety built hard on what would’ve been a rough, horse-trodden trail. Houses that had witnessed a ton of human drama. Houses with as many stories as ghosts.
Perhaps I did lose my box full of old writing habits when I moved. Tucked into some shadowed corner of a moving van and deposited at the next client’s house. But the freedom of getting out and about revealed that there’s still a future of writing ahead. And a new story will be appearing in coming weeks.
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