So, yesterday I packed up my bag with a couple different notebooks and journals and headed to It's A Grind for what Ali calls out-of-the-house pages. I was disappointed at first because the place was packed with Sunday after church and Sunday not so much church people. Only one table left and that one in the middle of the room. But I slung my bag into a chair to hold it and went off to order my coffee.
A few minutes later, I was so deep into my Morning Pages I almost missed the woman bringing me my triple Nutty Cow (hazelnut latte). Finished morning pages and pulled out a very pretty journal that I hadn't written in since last October. That surprised me. I think about that book all the time, but it seems that thinking about writing really isn't writing (Neil Gaiman was right). I looked around the coffee shop, wondering what to write about. I hadn't brought any prompts with me and couldn't think of any that sounded interesting. Then I spotted a guy who bore a slight resemblance to Stephen Fry, the actor and King of Twitter. That was all it took. Several pages later, I had what could turn out to be a fun short story with a little work.
As I sipped my coffee and looked out at the beautiful Colorado day, a woman sitting by the window asked me, "Are you writing a book or just writing for yourself?" "Both actually." We chatted for a while. She's from Michigan, too, not far from where I grew up. Then off to King Soopers for some healthy-ish food for the week.
When I got home, I took my bag into the writing room, pulled out the draft of MMG and started on rewrites. I had fun with them for the first time in a while. Actually liked what I was producing. Seventeen pages that sound like me. Not like a pale imitation.