Retreat/Reveal

It must be that time of year again.  The gray and gorgeous Oregon coast gets more than it's fair share of posted photos as I long for some salt water rhythms.  Another day of work and then I'm off to a mini two day retreat of writing and writing and writing.  Honestly, I wasn't sure I'd ever say that again.  I wondered if the idea of myself as "DL" or "Dead Lazy" as I was occasionally called by my father, would settle in so thoroughly to my bones that it would be impossible to ever lift them again.

Laziness is just a subset of fear.  Do nothing and never fail.  But finally the fail better ethic of my beloved Beckett has set in.  I have joined a new critique group and yesterday was awed by the talent on display.  Sometimes, it takes this kind of force-fed brilliance to kick my sluggish competitive genes into gear. If my fellow writers can show up with such a delicious, meaty feast then I better get cooking.  OK, not cooking.  That lame metaphor only makes me panic.  "But the only thing I can make is cereal!"

All I need to do is hole up in a quiet room, ocean before me, and crank out some bright failures.