Mr. Cynic has his learner’s permit as of yesterday, after we moved into The Department of Motor Vehicle for the afternoon.
Today, my writing group was held up in Williamsburg. The drive up and back was reminiscent of New England, drizzily November rain and lots of drifting colorful leaves, roadside forests swathed by paintbrushes, in wooly sweater colors of gold, forest green, maroons and burnt sienna. Subtler, but still. a nice taste of autumn along the roads. I feel nostalgic.
We mostly critiqued today, and it was good. I have really enjoyed the two manuscripts by others we’re currently reading in sections. I’m excited to read more of them.
But I was itching to edit my manuscript or work on nanowrimo. We never did settle down to write, but that’s fine. We enjoyed the company of fellow writers and talked conferences and politics.
I retrieved my car at another writer’s house – we typically carpool – then as I drove by the high school, I saw this lonely skinny kid in a black hoodie, slouching through the rain…slowly it dawned on me that that was my spawn, Mr. Cynic, so i pulled over and drove him home in the rain.
“Were you coming to pick me up after writing club, or did you just happen to be driving by?”
If only I were so focussed as to perfectly time my passing the school as his writing club was letting out, returning from my own. That would be a feat. I didn’t even remember that his was meeting today.
So, not a fruitful writing day. but eh, I’ll do it later.