Back to work

It took me five whole days to recover from my journey to my muse! But I didn't let the muse infusion hamper my writing. When I am not talking nonstop with friends on one of these trips, I'm being aware. I write down the things that catch my eye (so they don't escape my sieve-like brain) and I try to be alert of the opportunities to gather material.

For example, the passages in In Between Goodbyes that relate to walking in NYC are all gleaned from my experiences in the City.

Yet, for a moment, his eye was drawn to the street and a redhead, her head inclined toward her walking companion and the both of them leaning into the sharp wind off the Hudson.

There's nothing like walking in absolute frigid weather in the city. Just when you think the wind has calmed and the sky looks a little bluer, you come to a cross-street intersection and the blast wipes you out, bringing tears to your eyes and carrying away anything you haven't nailed to your body.

Following a full two minutes of bruising her knuckles, she laid back against the tan brick wall next to the entrance to catch her breath and watch assorted discarded papers making their solitary way from last night’s excitement in Times Square down 45th Street to their eventual demise at the hands of the street cleaner on 8th Avenue.

Paper takes on a life of its own in this windy world, it becomes animated and joins other discards in a ballet of the forgotten. Observing it makes writing more vivid.

Sometimes I hardly know how I can survive in the biting winter in the City. Sometimes I'm not sure how I'd survive in this pseudo country sitting where I live without my trips to the City.