Writing Retreat: Day 3

I wrote so much today, and here I am, writing a little more. Writing nonfiction is great. SO FUN. My writing process consists of writing embarrassing stories about myself and trying to connect them with some semblance of a narrative thread. I have thoughts like I should share my shame with the world and make it a chapter in my book. Then I spend the better part of a day back in the year 2000, delving into material I’d rather forget.

I’m full of great ideas.

Honestly though, I just have to push through this generative stage. Once this book is out of my head and on paper, things will be easier. I’m just going to keep telling myself that.

So what else happened today? I didn’t change out of my pajamas, even after doing Zumba off a DVD Lauren brought. A man named Herman taught us how to Merengue, which I did, but very badly (all the while Herman’s winking and telling me how amazing I look, to which I pant, “YOU’RE A GODDAMN LIAR, HERMAN.”) Lauren did OK, but she used to take dance classes.

We might go to a yoga class some morning this week, which again, I’m pretty bad at (and yeah, I know, yoga isn’t about doing the poses correctly, but believe me when I tell you it isn’t my strong suit). Last time I went to a yoga class was this past September on another writing retreat. We went to Concord, MA because of its literary roots. It was a good retreat– we got so much accomplished, and we stayed in the cutest Airbnb owned by a lady with a baby Maine coon cat named Henry David. Anyway, one day we decided to check out a yoga class in downtown Concord. There was nothing wrong with the class– the class was great: ambient lighting, Buddha statues, images of lotus flowers, the smell of lavender, mixed with sweat and wood floors. The problem was me: I was the idiot who forgot to bring water, and somewhere in the transition between downward-facing dog and plank pose when I began to feel dizzy and nauseous and I wondered if I was having a heart attack. I stood up, and all I could see was a houndstooth pattern, which I now compare to color bars on an old TV set when the cable went out. When I didn’t pass out, I folded into child’s pose and marinated in my own sweat for probably half an hour or so.

So, I guess what I’m trying to say is if Lauren and I go to yoga this week, I will bring plenty of water.

In other news, the big nor’easter was a nonissue down here in Onset. It rained a lot and washed the salt streaks off my black hatchback. We lost power for a hot minute, but that was pretty much all the excitement at the Hemingway House today.  Yesterday, Lauren and I ventured out to Home Depot to buy firewood in case we lost power and had to live like New England pilgrims for a few hours. It didn’t come to that, but I have to say I’m glad we picked up firewood because the fireplace is huge, and writing by the fire helped me focus somehow.

I’ll finish this post with a picture of Lauren looking writerly. I’d post one of myself, but I’m a mess. Maybe tomorrow.

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