kairos

My time on retreat has been special - outside regular time, almost as if I've left daylight saving time, eastern standard time, and entered magical writing time. It's always special down here, but this trip seems particularly potent.

The first full day I was given the name of an editor for my book by a random visitor to the mansion, a perfect poem arrived in my Writer's Almanac daily email, and I found myself being incredibly productive writing-wise, instantly upon arriving. No decompression time, no transition between regular life and writing retreat. Just. Writing. Now.

Yesterday I had a major breakthrough connecting something I'd just written to the earlier chapters of the book.

Today I am working on the final two chapters, in that magical space where the entirety of what's left to write is hanging fully formed in front of me. I'm the funnel, and all I have to do is make sure I keep myself in place so the words can filter down.

This morning a dove landed on the iron rail outside my bedroom window, directly facing me as I typed. It called out two times, looking into my eyes, and then flew away.

This afternoon there's a concert downstairs, so the music of violins and piano and other stringed instruments will be floating through the various wings and hallways of the mansion. I'm trying to time it so I write the last chapter during the concert. I like the idea of finishing this pony novel with music.

Tonight we'll read pages out loud and tomorrow I'll be in the wonderful position of tying up the loose ends I've discovered in the ms. When I get home I'll let it sit for a week and then dive into editing.

Sometimes when I'm here time goes too quickly, but this trip it's being perfect. I'm so in awe of things lining up this way.