Why is it easier to write while away from home?
Is it because, once out of your normal environment, you feel free of burdens, free of constraints, free of all of those nagging doubts and insecurities that settle down wherever you call home?
Last week I left Anchorage and flew to my sister’s in Philly, where I met my son and we all drove up to northwestern Pennsylvania for a very brief visit to celebrate my mother’s 80th birthday.
It was a whirlwind visit, since I still had to put the newspaper o. There was no time to write, barely time to breathe.
After returning to Philly, I accompanied my sister on a work trip to D.C. and something happened there, something sparked my writing muse. I’m not sure if it was the magic of walking around the monuments at night or the way I cried at the Vietnam Memorial that opened something upside of…
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