Today, for the first time in way too long, I sat down with some musician friends to make a song. God I’ve missed it.
We writers tend to go into our dark, little holes to bang out our words … wait for our muse … draw doodles in the margins of the page … or whatever, depending on the mood. Point being, we’re alone.
It’s for this reason I hound coffee shops, looking for a window table nestled gently between the view onto the street and that of the patrons. I’m still alone with my work, but it’s tempered by evidence of life. Thoughts of self-flagellation tend to be dampened down somewhat. A good thing in and of itself.