The Writer At Her Desk
Looking for publicity pictures, I stumble upon this photo of myself the way I might discover a poem I don’t remember writing. This has happened several times Although I know I wrote the piece in question, I am always left wondering a little about myself as a writer. This picture IS that person I become when sitting at my desk–hair somewhat askew, eyes not focusing on any object at hand. This is the somewhere-else-writer-person, the daydreamer preoccupied with images and thoughts which transport me from the ordinariness of my husband’s plaid shirt, the helter-skelter papers on the credenza, to life as I re-know in words I cannot speak, in words I think and then, by some stretch, can write.
Dear Char, I miss you terribly. Have been busy, sick, writing, sick, busy…etc. Now I am glad to say that I am well and stronger.
This summer I completed a novel, which is the first volume in a trilogy. The second book is nearly half completed, and the first rough draft of book three is on the back burner.
I would love to meet with you sometime to catch up on what you are doing/writing these days. Do you still remember me? Drop a note if you want to. Hugs, Marilyn Moses