I won’t be watching any television today, and I have a feeling my friend Nora won’t either. I had no idea that she took the election so hard until I saw her at our booksigning. I love the way friends can still surprise you (in a good way) after—eek!—I’ve known her thirteen years. Doesn’t seem possible.
I’ve got so much e-mail to catch up on since emerging from the writer’s cave I lived in for the last year. All my business stuff is organized and under control, but my personal correspondence fell by the wayside. Plus I have phone calls to return. So…here I am, writing in my live journal and wondering what CDs I put in at four in the morning in preparation for today. Sounds fairly mellow so far; I’m still in decompression mode.
The writers’ meeting went well. Grievances were aired without whining or casting blame. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits, personal relationships undamaged, and writing relationships a little more seasoned. There are still things that vex me, but I’m just going to have to live with that and move on.