Writing is one of my greatest loves. In my wildest dreams, I make a living
as a New York Times best-selling author—it’s a romantic vision where my
fingertips are stained with ink, and my home office is cluttered with
half-filled journals, terrariums, and hardbound books. I would love nothing so much as
spending my time in an overstuffed, leather chair inventing characters and
telling their stories.
Alas, my desire to write does not come as easily as
daydreaming. My muse arrives
randomly and leaves just as suddenly.
As you may have noticed, the muse will disappear for long periods and I
will go months without writing anything.
And then it will return, with a loud clamoring of noise, a narrator in
my head speaking incessantly until I can no longer ignore it and my fingers can
hardly move fast enough across the keyboard to get everything out.
The voice has been quiet for some time now. For the last several months, my brain
has been on intake mode. There has
been so much to absorb, and so much to learn. Now, here we are just past the 6-month mark. Some things, like grocery shopping and
cooking, have gotten easier. Some
things, no matter how much we practice them, still seem far from being
mastered. Like the Spanish
language. Poco a poco (little by
little) I’m getting better. But
I’m still not capable of extended conversation. I can’t express myself fully, and it is so completely
frustrating. You might be
thinking, “well then, that was the perfect time for Clare to be writing; why
didn’t she?” And that would be a
good question…that I don’t know the answer to. I think I have just been busy adapting.
I want to share all the experiences we’ve had here with
you. Yet, it doesn’t feel right
just yet, while they are still happening.
It seems in the writing down the adventures lose their luster a little,
as if they are suddenly confined to the past. On the other hand, I don’t want our year in Spain to end up
in a half-filled journal, neglected in the corner.
Stories are forthcoming. Stay tuned!
