"The happiness of life is made up of minute fractions - the little soon forgotten charities of a kiss or smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment, and the countless infinitesimals of pleasurable and genial feeling." Samuel Taylor Coleridge 1772 - 1834
" The Friend. The Improvisatore " (1828)
This is the last week of my Spring classes and I'm always a bit sorry when they end. But today I had a beautiful card from one of the people in my novel class that made me feel so good. "It was my first creative writing class, and you and the other amazing students inspired me to keep on trying!" It's little tributes like this that make everything so worthwhile.
Lately I've had so many kind words of praise said to me, and I appreciate this so much.
When I won the trip to Malaysia everyone said "You deserve it!" Wow! I feel so honoured.
It's been another hectic week, winding up the lessons and trying to get everything in order before I leave on my trip. Once again, there's been no time to sit down and write, although this afternoon I printed out the last pages of Part IV so I can see what needs to be added to polish it off. I don't know if I'll meet my goal -- to finish the last chapter of this part it before I leave on Monday -- but I'll try to at least get a little bit more written. I meant to write yesterday, but had to rush around on errands all morning and felt exhausted by the afternoon, in no state to solve the problems of Macedonia and Athens.
Last night was the last "Prompting the Muse" class, and although there were only a few women left in the group, it was an excellent evening of some good writing. Later I went to my favorite haunt, the L.Q., to relax and hear some jazz. Two of my gentlemen friends were waiting for me: my Havana Buddy and the Babylonian, and later Cliffy the dancer came to join us. My Havana Buddy said he'd come especially because he knew he wouldn't see me again before I leave. How thoughtful. And the Babylonian walked me home afterwards. (Earlier in the week I'd done some editing for him. Unfortunately I'll miss the performance he's directing next month. He produces these amazing shows combining art, dance, music, and the spoken word, based on the Sumerian myths of ANU the sun god.)
This morning was the last Memoir's group and we had our usual pot-luck lunch and fond farewells. Then I met awhile with a young writer who is eager to help out with the writer's club.
Now, I'm at home relaxing awhile before leaving for my last Travel writing class (which tonight is travel photography and always a lot of fun!)
So the week is almost over and between a lunch date tomorrow with my travel companion and family members, helping out with the screening of writer's club contest entries on Saturday, dinner with friends and out to celebrate Saturday night, who knows if I will get the time and energy to do any work on the novel.
But I feel good, especially after that thoughtful message I received in the mail today. It has been a job well done, another successful session of writing classes completed. Now I can rest, enjoy my holidays, and somewhere along the road in my travels, hope to find the Muse.
"A novel is a mirror that strolls along a highway. Now it reflects the blue of the skies, now the mud puddles underfoot." Stendhal (Henri Beyle) 1783-1842 "Le Rouge e le Noir" 1830