If you’re a writer, maybe you’ve been there. It seems as if you’ve used up all your words. You’re empty. You need to refill your "well" so you have new images to work with. Julia Cameron, in The Right to Write, encourages writers to take Artist’s Dates. Those are great—but I do Artist’s Dates solo. For a recent Saturday’s trip to the well, I had help.More than anticipated, actually.
A) No bones were broken, and as I’m writing this a few days later, the soreness is almost completely gone; and
Magdalena Scott lives in Southern Indiana, where she does a marginal job of being a wife, mother, and writer.
My husband and I drove the hour or so to Kentucky Flea Market in Louisville. The serious shoppers were pulling wheeled carts brought from home, to fill with new and exciting stuff. (One lady was pulling hers along with the wheels in the air and the metal screeching along the concrete floor. That was pleasant.)
I mostly watched people. The one purchase I considered for myself was a sign that said, “AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.” I bought my cousin’s birthday gift, then called her immediately and told her. She gave me some grief over that, since her birthday is in December. Now she'll wonder all year...
When we finished the flea market, we did some other shopping. It was a nice outing—saw interesting people and stuff, had a yummy meal.
That night, the dog and I went out into the yard so he could take care of business. I thought business was finished, and was ready to head back to the house. But he saw a rabbit, and took off. Although he only weighs about forty pounds, when he moves like that, suddenly extending the retractable leash to its full length, it's all I can do to stop him. And this time I hadn't seen the rabbit in time, so I wasn't ready. Off he (and the leash) dashed for the rabbit, and down I went into the iris bed. One knee definitely collided with a geode. (These are knobby round rocks.) The rest of me was splayed all over a four-inch PVC pipe, other geodes, and the limestone cistern cover.
That night, the dog and I went out into the yard so he could take care of business. I thought business was finished, and was ready to head back to the house. But he saw a rabbit, and took off. Although he only weighs about forty pounds, when he moves like that, suddenly extending the retractable leash to its full length, it's all I can do to stop him. And this time I hadn't seen the rabbit in time, so I wasn't ready. Off he (and the leash) dashed for the rabbit, and down I went into the iris bed. One knee definitely collided with a geode. (These are knobby round rocks.) The rest of me was splayed all over a four-inch PVC pipe, other geodes, and the limestone cistern cover.
Do you know that a cistern is another type of well? Yep. I was so fortunate that:
A) No bones were broken, and as I’m writing this a few days later, the soreness is almost completely gone; and
B) I didn’t fall into the well.
I wonder if the dog heard my stated plans for the day—refill the well—and was trying to help out?
He’s just that sweet.
***
Magdalena Scott lives in Southern Indiana, where she does a marginal job of being a wife, mother, and writer. She’s in the process of reinventing herself (results: marginal), and blogs about that, and whatever else comes to mind, at http://magdalenascott.blogspot.com. (Sometimes her dog also blogs there.) Her website is http://magdalenascott.com.
Magdalena has written an anthology, Ladies of Legend: Finding Home, where four women from different backgrounds find purpose, love - and their future - in a town intent on preserving its past. She has published her first full-length novel; The Blank Book--What would you do if you could write your future? Her work is published through Resplendence Publishing and is available in paperback and e-book format available on Amazon and Fictionwise.
