I have given myself irreparable damage by finishing The Ruins and shifting to the memoirs of Virginia Woolf. Sweet pain. I think that Virginia Woolf is the greatest woman writer of all time.
I'm reading one of the entries in a collection of her essays about her life for the writer's retreat I'm about to attend at the Ghost Ranch in New Mexico. I'm so excited about this retreat that I can hardly concentrate.
So, wouldn't you know that after about a month-long dry spell with my freelance writing business, I mean NO business, I am now a week away from leaving for my retreat and all kinds of business is coming my way. I've had to turn down a couple of editing jobs because I wouldn't have been able to finish them before next Saturday. Now, I'm thinking that I should ride the wave as far as I can. Business-related fear crops up. What if I've finally arrived, and now I'm leaving for an extended vacation. Everything's going to fizzle up and die. The, of course, I'll die, and then it won't matter.
I know that I need to cut myself some slack. I need to find a way to get through the dry times without panicking. I guess they're just going to happen. In the meantime, I am scrambling to make as much progress as I can this week and still finish the pre-reading for this retreat, get everything in order, find a caregiver for The Princess and be ready to hit the road this Saturday. ROAD TRIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Huzza.