Day 15 - October 30

Today I have my heart's desire:  a whole, complete day without structure.  Without time.  Ah, luxury.  I rise as dawn filters through the windows.  I have an apple and tea, read the Bible, go for the usual walk around the labyrinth.  I eat an enormous breakfast of egg and sauteed vegetables.

And now I can write.  I dip my toe into the story I'm writing, then paddle around a bit, then plunge in headfirst.  Hard work, but invigorating.

Another walk at midday, and then six more hours of writing, punctuated by the making of corn bread and roasted vegetables.  There is no one to tell me not to read or write while I'm eating supper, no one to frown at the dirty dishes piling up in the sink.  Only the story taking shape, chiseled out word by word, scene by scene.

I want this story to be a lantern, the way that the stories of my youth were lights to my imagination.  I want it to ring like a bell, sounding in the wilderness.  Well, I really just want it to be a really good story.

Night falls quickly in the north in late October.  The wind rubs trees together, and they creak and complain.  There are strange sounds in the darkness, like someone running across the roof or knocking at the door.  I recall the verse of the Psalm I read in the morning's clear light:

In peace will I both lay me down and sleep,
   for God alone makes me dwell in safety.