A misty road between the house I'm staying in and the barn

Part of me wants to stay silent while I’m here at the artist colony in the misty northern California mountains, but another part of me wants to acknowledge where I am, in this moment, and that part of me has won out. I’m here to write. I’ve learned it’s important to keep yourself open when you go away on a writing residency: Whatever you are inspired to do, you should absolutely do. You don’t know what could happen. Follow your whims like you can’t always do so at home—and also write as much as you can, absorbing the scenery and the silence and the distance from reality. Of course, I currently have a deadline for a small piece due in to my publisher, but once I turn that in, my path is wide open and there are a few things I could find myself working on. No rules. No limits.

I am living here with other artists (most are not writers, which I find fascinating!) and I’m writing a special something I will share with you one day soon, and eating some very delicious food. My first few days here have been all the more magical because of the rain—my most favorite sound in the universe—and the pale mist that surrounds our house makes it seem as if I’ve entered another dimension. When it clears and the rain stops this weekend, I’ll be able to see all around us to where we are… and in the near distance the Pacific Ocean.

The view from my writing desk... when the mist clears, what will I see?

I have a notebook with butterflies on it and new pages written already. And I do miss E, but he’ll be reading everything I write while I’m here. I can’t wait to show him.

My writing desk