I stare at the blank page and have no idea where my words will take me.  I discover that I have a lot to say but no time to translate that to paper.  I wonder when would be a good time to write. I need a space. Someplace where I can go to explore my thoughts and record my words. I've tried the office desk. It is too cluttered with "work." My bedroom has no writing space.  The Dining Room has a large table. I can see the mill pond through the sliding glass door, but the space is rather open and not conducive to writing. The Living Room is not set up for work. The stove is a focal point with the entertainment center dominating one wall.  That leaves the burgundy leather couch and loveseat to fill the center space. Once again no place to write.  The kitchen table faces the front of the house and the woods... that space doesn't work either. So my dilemma continues. 
     A writer's studio... or at least a writer's space.  I think tomorrow I'll set up on the dining room table and see what I can accomplish... if anything.  I need to write... to remember. There is so much I am afraid I will forget if I don't write it down.

     Stories.  Have you read The Mermaid's Chair? It's well worth the read. It's a story about traveling inside. I think that's what writing does for me. It lets me travel within.   I think I need to travel more.