The evening writing group was fun, and the writing results were interesting, though I'm not sure what to make of the prompts. When I use prompts at all, I tend to reach for simple ones, and the ones we wrote to last night had numerous stages and involved multiple people. Still, writing emerged, and at least one of the drafts felt promising, and I enjoyed spending time with new people, without feeling too shy or misplaced.

It's cold this morning--just 36 degrees--and I am girding myself to haul trash to curb . . . though how the garbage trucks will get up this street is anyone's guess. Construction has completely blocked it from both ends; cars are trapped in driveways; it's a mess. Good thing I sneaked my car up the road before the exit closed.

Today I'm going to work on class plans, then go back to editing, maybe meet a friend for coffee, and, if I have time, turn my attention to the book-manuscript-under-production. I need to make a few changes before Jeff gets too far into the page design.

This morning's letter is a little dull. I'm sorry: for some reason, my writing is style is kind of clunky and pedestrian today. Maybe the road construction clamor is infecting my cadence. Or maybe I've been writing too much and my weary syntax is melting into a clump. I feel like I've been doing nothing this week but untangling sentences, one knot after another.