Taking my writing more seriously than ever, lately I haven’t had much of a social life. Every day seems to be a copy of the day before: Breakfast, writing, a short break for coffee, more writing, dinner, an hour of Olympics, then more writing. Finally, I pass out at the risk of hitting my forehead against the computer screen. These will be the final touchups on The Moon Daughter, a first edit of The Basement and lots of articles and blogs.
Then it dawns on me: Outside this writer’s cave, there is a summer day. Really? It’s hard to accept that beyond the Facebook boasts, e-mail forwards, or the shrunken messages on Twitter, there are other ways to communicate. So I ask my husband to heat up the pool and invite a few friends and their small children/grandchildren over. It has been so long since I made lemonade that I need to consult my recipes. Gee, I had forgotten that it’s better to boil the syrup first! My hands smell wonderful after picking fresh lemons.
Soon my backyard fills with loud sounds of splashes, wet feet running on concrete and high-pitched giggles of childhood. I had just about forgotten the spark in kids’ eyes when they see real chocolate.
Today there’s new energy back in my cave and I am once again reminded of an old saying, “The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.”