Writing Retreat

If you've wondered recently whether Sir Knavely exists?

There he is -- looking up at me.

Such affection.  Ain't he cute?

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I'm packing up tomorrow morning.  Heading for San Diego to write the first draft of Bloody Ground. 

The dialogue, that is.  The story is actually written. 

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I don't think I'll have access to email.

That's not a bad thing.  Really.

That means my focus will be on getting the script done.

That's a good thing.  Really.

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I also have a real deadline. 

I'm staging the new play during the first two weeks in August.  Somewhere in Stark County.

That means there's a company of actors -- not cast yet -- who are depending on me to get the script done in time for them to read it.

That means I actually have to have the script finished when I leave San Diego. 

About two weeks from today.

Yikes.

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Wish me luck.

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Sir Knavely will be fine while I'm away.

Thank god for the couple next door who have two cats themselves -- one of which is a spitting image of Sir himself.  The two might be related.  Who knows?

Anyway.  No need to worry.  They'll watch Sir and make sure he's happy while I'm gone.

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I'm hosting a cookout when I get back.

I love the sense of community that emerges when you combine a group of people, a table, food, and drink during the evening hours.

The spirit that emerges comes from god, I think.

Communion -- the breaking of bread and the consumption of wine -- is such a fantastic metaphor.  Stories rely on it to build relationships.

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If you write to me, and I don't respond, it's not because I hate you.

I'm probably just not checking my email.

I'll respond when I get home.

Until then, warmest regards to you and yours.