Finding the path again after losing the way.

Oak_Hill_Wood_path

It’s been a wild few days here at the Purple Ink Ranch. Okay, we don’t have a ranch, but we do have a shared community which exists within each of our own worlds and crosses over into each others. It is at the same time physical, mental and spiritual, so to avoid getting all metaphysical let’s imagine a ranch.

A big sprawling place surrounded with yellow golden fields and an old fence broken in many places. There are lots of paths leading up to the ranch and recently I’ve been lost.

I started out okay, confident in knowing the way, but I kept wandering off into the high brush, looking for things I don’t know why I was struggling to find in the first place. Staring at my computer dismally I would mutter, “I have no idea how this story got so convoluted and I don’t have any idea how to untangle it!” Or “Why did I write that? It’s so stupid!” So, you see it wasn’t really a case of writers block it was more a case of writer’s disgust. I would decide to put something aside then start something else then I would hate the new thing more than the old thing all the while getting hopelessly lost in the mists I had created for myself.

Throwing down my pack I wondered how I could have gotten so lost, so quickly. And then I got sick. A horrible, piercing pain in my stomach doubled me over while I was out at dinner with my partners in crime. They didn’t waste a minute getting me home, calling to check on me, offering to meet me at the hospital when I was having some tests done and offering to help out if my family needed anything.

Sometimes being sick is a good thing because it gives you time to think. I thought about my stories and thought about theirs and slowly I realized the path back to the ranch wasn’t that hard to find.

The pain in my stomach remains a mystery. Was it just gas…some kind of hormonal spike, could a voodoo doll have been used? Who knows? (The Dr. sure doesn’t!) But in some weird way it helped because it gave me time to reset and reread my writing. It’s not all bad…some places are pretty good actually.

Hearing my name called by all my writing companions, I turn around and head back to the ranch.

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