A person can have a far worse Saturday night than listening to author/musician W.C. Jameson. A far, far worse Saturday night.
This, after a day of inspiration from other writers, gives a girl much to churn around in the subconscious tonight. I'm keeping a notebook by the bed - who knows what gems in dreams may come out of this mix of goodies. Of course, I keep a notebook by the bed every night, but I'm anticipating it may get more use in the morning than on the average day.
Max McCoy always puts together a great experience for everyone at the Tallgrass Writing Workshop in Emporia. Two things happen every year I come:
1. I want to spend more time talking to Max and the other writers who live here, as well as the other attendees.
2. I think I might like to live in Emporia.
Emporia has a really active writing community and I need writer friends. Desperately. I have pretty much given up on that face to face where I live. I've tried to find it. I've tried to build it. I think the time has arrived for me to accept that I cannot will it into existence.
The cherry on top of the day was bumping into Phillip Finch, in the local chocolate shop. And to think I almost talked myself out of a visit there after lunch. Just another reason you should always have chocolate.
