Writing away from home is harder than it looks.
Despite being prepared and aware, it was very very difficult to stick to my plans. I was able to write in my journal, but it was a little like sleeping in the hotel bed: I slept, but it wasn't like regular sleep.
I could not get down to the work in progress at all. Mentally I couldn't get there. Maybe if I had more experience, I would have been able to focus faster, focus better? I don't know.
There was very little time for solitude, for mental space. There was little time for fresh air, for a walk around the block.
Sometimes I felt I was looking across a great divide... observing other people, doing what they care about, possibly what they love, and knowing that wasn't true for me.
Not that I want to turn into those other people. But it would be nice to get a little closer.
Not there yet.
2 hours ago