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I’ve felt remarkably stress free today, despite more high energy movements. I’ve driven more than 200 miles today, been in 3 different states, unloaded a full car twice, bathed Rachel, did laundry and reworked my bed. I’ve had two sets of company and celebrated Christmas twice.
And it’s only 6:30.
I need a nap.
But I’m dying to write. Every conversation, every stop I made gave me ideas, details to take note of that would build character, a sense of place. I listened to most of an unabridged recording of Thomas Cook’s Red Leaves, finding myself engaged and paying careful attention to not only his story but his craft. Here at home, I have a copy of Uppity Women of the Renaissance that I checked out of the library. I’m also finishing up some editorial work on a book for a friend.
Still the words call. Haunting. My dragon wants to be fed.
And I came across this comment in the Uppity book, about premiere actress Elizabeth Barry, a description that resonated with me, in more ways than I can truly make sense of at the moment.
“Except for a time-out hither and yon with a titled honey, hardhead Barry stayed single and solo–a state of affairs which earned her character attacks noted for their viciousness. Fortuantely, the attacks were but mere words, the raw material Barry worked with every day.”
Sometimes, you just know in your gut, in your heart, when what you’ve seen or heard or read is important, even if you don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because I am also comfortable and energized by Barry’s “raw material.”
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