Spring really did come to River Writers last Friday. Everyone had new work - it's been a while since we were all so productive in one week - and it was all good work. Bill had the second act of his new play, a one woman show which will delight actresses of a certain age, who very seldom get such fabulous roles. Andrew had a new installment of a story which has been in progress for some time, in which he explored the emerging identity mystery at its center. Claudia had a first draft of a meaty new poem which took a very unique point of view. Hilary responded to the workshop's demand for more with another installment of her memoir. And I actually managed to produce five new pages of my own short story.
Sometimes it does seem like the stars fall into alignment, and maybe we shouldn't ask why. But of course, being writers, it's our job to ask why, all of a sudden, following a month in which we hadn't had any particularly extensive contact, we all suddenly produced new work. Maybe we all just needed a little more sunshine. But it might be an interesting trail to follow - do we always write more in the spring? Are January and February just universally depressing? Is there such a thing as Seasonal Writing Disorder? If we all moved to Cancun for the winter would our word totals rise? And, most importantly, are there any generous billionaires out there who would care to subsidize the experiment?
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