Escaping the "artist's way"

I'm sitting at my local coffee shop taking a break from home life to write. My husband magnanimously offered that I go, without having me to ask for it. He loves me. He loves me.

His only request was that I was home in time to help him put the children to bed. Sigh. (HeeHee.)

Never mind, this decaf americana more than makes up for it. Not hearing my loving and excited children singing early Christmas carols with made up choruses in the kitchen while my head pounds more than makes up for having to go back and tuck them in.

In fact, what joy. I get to come here, after being with Joey for most of the day, have piece and quiet and listen to the fountain splash water next to me and write - which I love to do - and then I get the pleasure of tucking in my lovies. But not have to Put Them To Bed. (HeeHee.)

I am meeting Ginger tomorrow to go over our Artist's Way chapter and do our check-in. I haven't been doing the morning pages (sigh) and I haven't done any of the tasks. This time. I have done them (quite a few of them) before when I read the book, but I feel this is cheating to not do them again. After all, I am in a different place this time. I'm a different person. Evolved to a new space. So I shall go over them again and do at least one. Oh. Also, I haven't done the artist's date. Unless I count this. I am alone. I'm writing. I don't think that is supposed to count. I'm supposed to be filling up the well, not depleting it by creating. Hmm.

I do understand this. And agree with it. But maybe not in this sense. Not in the sense of me escaping my house (and the noise that goes with it ... and the laundry that needs to be folded) and writing to purge and get my feelings and emotions out. Though I haven't actually done that. I think that this should be counted as an emergency artist date. :) I like that. So I'm counting it.

And now, to book.