(For my previous post all about writers colonies, see here.)

So here I am, days away from going. The closer I get to leaving, the more quiet I’ve found myself becoming online. I’ve had less and less to say. Maybe this is practice—since there will be no tweeting, no Facebooking, and no reading blogs or writing my own blog while I’m there. That heavy silent object on my shoulders is my own head, and I’ll be spending a lot of time alone with it once I’m there.

I’m feeling this great sense of anticipation. As if so much is possible. The two new projects I’m working on are buzzing all around me. I’m so excited about them.

Also, practical thoughts are spinning through my mind: How muddy will it be there, do I really need my galoshes? Can I live without the 9 or 10 books I’ve piled up to carry with me—should I ship them to myself, or just use the colony’s library? What will my room be like? Who will I meet? What will we talk about at dinner? Can my iPod work as my alarm clock? How terribly will I miss E, and can I fall asleep without him? Where is my flashlight? Etc. Etc.

But then I push all that aside and I think of the writing, only the writing… which is why I applied to go in the first place. All my questions will be answered soon enough, and then I’ll be alone with my writing… for four weeks. What a gift.

I’ll say good-bye before I go… so you know just when I’ve disappeared!