Friday, November 22, 2013
A few days ago, before the snow and bitter cold, I admired this beautiful November rose on my patio. This is the first time in 30 years living in this house that the weather conditions allowed such a treat, a late bloomer.
I promised myself the Northern Colorado Writers Retreat this year would be a defining weekend for me, to either help me to re-kindle my love of writing and renew my vows to keep trying for success, or separate myself from it, citing irreparable differences.
The setting of our retreat was very conducive to closing out the world and reconnecting with my creativity. As always, being in the company of other writers was inspirational, encouraging, and zig-zaggingly fun. I had a comfortable room, peaceful in the daytime, what I needed to connect with my missing muse. I wrote, ``interviewed`` my characters, started over, changed points of view, wrote some more. Then, I went home determined to give the relationship with my writer-self one more try, because I, we, have stories to tell, til death do us part.
Who`s to say my efforts will be a waste of my time? I definitely wouldn`t be the first late-blooming-baby-boomer in history.
Believe in the bloom. Why not?