It stirs...it blogs...why it's gorgeous!

"Happiness is appreciating what you have, not getting what you want."

Last night, I went running in a new patch of woods. It was unutterably gorgeous, all East Coast hardwoods and meandering streams, small wood bridges and the occasional hot mountain biker. I was exhausted -- night after crappy hotel night having stolen my sleep for too many days in a row -- and I was resting by running. Hard to explain, but that's what it felt like because that's what it was. I rest, too, on the page -- fiction these days, stories of good people enduring strange turns of fate with fair degrees of grace.

This morning, I walked out of my hotel and saw dogs, dancing happy types, squirming with joy at the ends of their leashes. It was adopt-a-dog day in center city Reston and the joy was contagious. I know, because I caught it. A little while later, I saw a sole figure skater practicing spins in the slanting morning light. I've never seen a figure skater before.

These are the joys I've stumbled on so far today.

It's been a surreal go for a while. A lot of my life feels more strange than good, to be honest, and what's occurred to me lately is that no matter where I find myself, I need to walk in beauty.  That is to say I need to breathe in the beauty no matter where I find myself and to spread joy where and how I can and in the meantime limit the damage I cause to the smallest possible fractional.

Maybe that's the key to keeping the years from slipping away without consequence. In the absence of meaning, maybe moving with beauty is enough.

P.S. One more thought. I'm writing today, really writing, and doing it for a living. Granted, I'm in the office at 1830 on a Saturday night and pausing to blog, but still it's kind of the best. My writing life is the result of an impulsive marriage back in 2003 -- me to writing. Thought it was a thoughtless union at the time, it has borne many great things and countless moments of giddy joy (generally those come when I have finished a piece). On my deathbed, if I end up having one, I will say "I was a writer. I wrote" and no matter what else happens (and let's be honest, I've lived so goddamned much that I could die today and still have lived a full, amazing life)  it will have been enough.

A new passion is eating the corners of my brain.

It's pushing 11 pm on a work night and my blogging ideas have been running a bit low lately.

So how about a status update instead?

These days, I'm feeling wicked interested in learning how to write better fiction - which makes reading it both more exciting and more of a pain in the ass.

'How finely formed that paragraph!' I say to myself. 'How the hell does he know to do that?'

So, today being "I do nothing unless I feel like it" Sunday, I went to fellow writer Susan McElheran's Old Sage Bookshop (in the St. Mike's Alley - 928-776-1136) and picked up a copy of Raymond Carver's short stories. Might make for good WC reading next to Good to Great and Emotional Intelligence. And yes, it may possibly serve as inspiration to eventually create a decent short story.

Started working on one tonight, focusing on creating scene and on telling through action rather than description. It's mysterious stuff at this point.

Despite the tens of thousands of words of fiction I've scrawled out in bits and bytes, each of my efforts still feel nascent and tentative. I guess I just need to focus on the journey right now.

One exciting development is my acquisition of a new micro-cabin (I'm now renting just slightly less house than I need) and the certain introduction of a writing desk into said millieu. Perhaps I can work fiction back into my early morning schedule or into my evening unwind.

In any case, leave your bright ideas in the comment section regarding how to create well-formed fiction. I'd be grateful.