The full moon woke me last night. Crept inside the curtains, smiled across the room, smiled so loudly I knew it was her before I opened my eyes. And so I drew back the curtains at 3.48 and wrote in that strange pool of white light until it shifted behind chimney stacks and a high slanting roof.
Moments of bright calm before IT begins!!
IT is the writing course I'm about to start at this Arvon centre. And the niggle is that old one of mine about having to sit at a desk. You know how it is with me - I'd rather be hunched under a tree in a gale than sitting in a row of silence, or walking out in that moonlight instead of looking at walls.
There are wild moors and wooded valleys on the doorstep. I'll be staying in a house once owned by Ted Hughes, up the road from the cemetery where Sylvia Plath is buried, on the edge of the great expanses of moorland that inspired works like Wuthering Heights. So, you know where I'll be before and after the workshop sessions!
Who knows how it will be. I'll let you know. But after that, November will be upon us and that means the wonderful "Thirty days and nights of literary abandon" that is Nanowrimo!! After last year's experience, I've signed up for another try. Anyone else joining in?