One of my challenges in embracing my Intellection strength is in allowing myself time to think as part of the writing process. I need it. I can see where I’ve had sticking points in the story, tossing scenes to restart again and get myself grounded.
But another part of me (probably critical voice, being the sneaky devil it is) says, “But you’re not writing.” (Can you hear it whining? I swear…)
Except that I am.
We’ve become fixated as a culture on numbers because they’re a concrete way to measure success. There’s an app to count everything.
But it’s also easy to check the box on doing the thing without doing it well. One of the appalling things for me is that to get to a 30K novella, I have to write another 80-100K of words that I toss out. Not revision, but trying out different approaches, getting stuck, backtracking, and restarting.
So thinking is in.
So much so that I’m turning down an opportunity to hear Michael La Ronn talk about writing a million words a year with a day job. It’s just not where I’m at now.
For my thinking time, I wanted to get out in nature to do this. Partially because I’m working to exercise the bottom of my feet. Feet are made to walk on the ground, not concrete, and on things like tree branches, roots, rocks, and bumps.
That’s hard to find in my area without traveling somewhere. The concrete is everywhere! In many places, no road verge exists at all (a verge is that strip of grass between the sidewalk in the curbs, though the name varies, depending on the state).
The weather was pretty good…clear and sunny. Not too cold, and no wind to bring the chill in.
I hopped on I95 and head south. I’d stop at the first park to have signage on the road. That became Pohick Bay regional park.
The name comes from an American Indian tribe in the area. The bay feeds into Gunston Cove, which connects to the Potomac River (granted, any body of water in our area does this, eventually).
It has about four nature trails through a wooded and hilly area. Some pretty beaches along the bay, too. I also found a lot of apple snail shells washed up on the sand.
Very peaceful and quiet walking. Just the sounds of the water lapping at the shore, a bird that sounded a lot like the screech of Tribbles, and the occasional power motor of a boat. Won’t be like that in another month or two!