I'm sitting here working on a project. School is done and jewelry is done until September so of course, and in typical fashion I find it IMPOSSIBLE to sit still for our remaining month on island, so I've got not one but two writing assignments I've given myself. One is a children's book and one is a grown-ups book. Both fiction. Both impossibly difficult and gut-wrenching. I am constantly beset with waves of inferiority complex, uncertainty and the urge to crawl back into my mother's womb and call for a rematch. On life. Good grief, no wonder writers drink.
Went to watch John's trial today. I have spent a good many years sitting in court watching trials - I always feel like I am watching Broadway performances of Law and Order. But when it's your husband who you knew way back when he was a goober, hockey-jersey-wearing-law-school-hopeful, it is easy to become swollen with pride. He has a natural way about the court room, and I could tell that he was putting the very nervous witnesses at ease, thereby getting the best testimony. I wish you all could see it first hand.
Must get back to the writing. Promised myself 1000 words a day. I'm using the "driving across country at night" approach - basically writing one sentence at a time. I have no idea where that sentence will take me, but all I can do is go along for the ride.
