Day five: writing, not hiking.

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This is the view from my window:

Day five

Today was all writing and no hiking. My legs and back were sore today! Not crippled up sore…more in the ‘oh, boy, this is uncomfortable’ range. I slept really well last night (very quiet evening in Lloyd Hall – hurray!) and I think it’ll be a quiet evening tonight, too. There’s an open studio event at the end of the week and from the talk at breakfast, a lot of the artists are trying to finish projects so that they can show their work.

Oh, and I discovered that there are English muffins at breakfast. There’s a whole toasting station I knew nothing about. How did this escape my notice? I have no idea. How long has it been there? Who can know? No crumpets, but plenty of English muffins. Incredible! I’m going to check it out again tomorrow to make sure it wasn’t some kind of English muffin mirage.

I spent most of my day in the library. The library is in the basement of Lloyd, where the artists stay, and I was so daring as to go down in my slippers…I don’t need to leave the building, and I do have some snazzy new moccasins. It turned out to be a good call…I was oh-so-comfortable! The library here is kind of a hidden gem – never very busy, always quiet, and very comfortable. The hours aren’t very good right now – closed on weekends and only open until 5pm on weekdays. But it’s open during the day, and the librarians are okay with coffee cups as long as you promise not to spill.

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There’s a nice big table to sit at, and really great chairs. I had it mostly to myself until a poet showed up. A poet who jiggled the table when he wrote. A lot. I’m pretty sure it was this guy, but I didn’t want to interrupt him to ask. Nor did I want to shoot daggers from my eyes for the table jiggling. Poets, in my experience, can be fearsome. And poets who can jiggle tables with the sheer force and conviction of their writing could probably disemvowel another hapless writer, wipe the pen on the victim’s sleeve, and walk away laughing.

Dude. Do not mess with the poets.

Day five

Despite the table jiggling, I finished a short story today. I think it’s a good one. I…well, it’s about zombies. In a mountain town. Kind of like Banff. Only different. First draft is done, and I’m pleased with it…if I can polish it up in time, I might send it out to Tesseracts 14. I’m going to try to get a start on another story tomorrow…I’m afraid to start messing with the zombie story until I’ve had a chance to think about it.

It’s much quieter on campus now, too. Wordfest is done, and the eleventy million buffet-eating children are gone. The wanderers are still, well, wandering. Definitely dark and somewhat dreary here today. Low cloud, a bit of rain, and a general feeling of dampness. I’m really glad I brought my woolly sweater.

Day five

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…Mom and dad have discovered Skype, and are trying to convince the cats that it’s me in the computer. They almost got another cat today. This is what happens when I go away. They eat their dinner late at night and look at cat adoption listings.

Good heavens. By the time I get home, they’ll be eating at midnight buffets and we’ll have nineteen cats.

Mount Edith Pass.

Tomorrow? More writing. I’m having lunch with @furtivecode. Ten bucks says I forget to use his real name. Even now, I’m thinking ‘yeah, lunch with Furtivecode. Don’t forget!’

That’s day five of my writing residency, friends. A much more subdued day, but definitely a productive one.