I try to have a routine, to be quiet, deeply quiet, to work in solitude and somehow my life resists.
And it’s resisting in larger and larger ways, like the city being in a state of emergency for two weeks.
I finally figured out what this is doing to me – it’s forcing me to go inward for quiet -–to go deeper and deeper inside, to be quiet in spite of the chaos all around me.
Does that, then, show up in my writing? I couldn’t imagine how it could not, but I don’t really see it, myself. Perhaps some day someone else will be able to show it to me.
Maureen
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