Home again, Home again, jiggity jog.

I spent last Thursday and Friday at a writer's seminar, specifically, The Soul Tells a Story led by Vinita Hampton Wright. It was sponsored by Calvin's Gainey Institute and was really very lovely. Vinita created space for us to explore and create and helped suggest routines and exercises that could help us in our work as creative people. I let myself become immersed in that part of my life that I've come to realize has to have an outlet. Holy Hell is the result of our final exercise about a three day journey until our dream came true. Now though, I'm back home. It took me two days to really return to my life. I had to write for one day, and absorb other people's stories for another before I was any good here with the kids.
I'm home now, and I'm finding I'm much better for the excursion into that troublesome creative side of myself. It's easier to manage reality if I have a bit of a vacation now and then. I also wrote my first sex scene. I'd known it was in the book, but I'm writing chronologically and Harriet is still eleven. What was that all about? I don't know, but for my first try it's pretty good. Thanks, Vinita.