I got a lot of writing done on an article.
If you conjured up romantic images, such as “he did so on the terrace of a nice caf'” you know, as writers do in the movies: I didn’t.
I was in kiddie paradise. In other words, in introvert grown up hell.
Imagine about 200 four to ten year old brats. Raging around in a converted factory hall in cages, whoosh on down from sliders and jumping on and off other contraptions.
I did summon up romantic images. Caffe Reggio on MacDougal Street came to mind. Thanks, James, for taking me there, for the first time. The noise cancellation headphones came out. Glenn Gould started playing the Goldberg Variations, especially for me, including his humming along. And I hunkered down and focused and got a quite a bit of processing while writing done.
The kids had an absolute blast in the real world.
What daydreams do you summon up to get shit done?