I have been working on a new story since 11 this morning, and it is going very well. (I would say I have been working straight, and that would be true, except for the interruptions of two children home because of the President's Day, the puppy, the quick rescue necessitated by the two children taking the puppy to the dog park just before it began to rain and hail (I was in the kitchen making tea and realized I was hearing hail outside, then realized, children, puppy, and friend with Malamute had all walked down to the dog park) - I loaded up the van with an old moving blanket and all the dog towels I could find, drove to the dog park, got the dogs in the back (one grateful Malamute and one very disgruntled Airedale puppy) and the kids in the front and brought everyone home).
The story has deepened nicely as I've worked on it, and I'm liking it very much. But more than that, is the way the process has moved through me today. And I realized that I have begun to create myself, write myself, into being as a writer. This is what being a writer actually means - a day spent in front of the computer, at the desk, staying within the story, hearing the characters talk, making adjustments, considering alternatives. Folding it into who I am, folding myself around it, allowing it to define me as much as I define it.