My sacred writing space is in my cozy bed at 5:30 am. I have a half cup of the world’s best coffee by my side... good, strong coffee is my spirit animal - the flame and the pilot at once.
Here we are: My coffee and my soul dog Trinnie join me as I prop myself up with pillows, wrap myself in blankets and a fluffy bathrobe. I have a scrumptious layer of memory foam on my mattress that is as rich as the cream in my cup.
And Trinnie takes her place at the end of the bed guarding the palace. We wake up together, wag our tails together, and head downstairs. She's got the routine - she goes out while the coffee brews and then leads the way back upstairs... she's the back-to-bed-alpha dog showing me how to live.
Because that's what dogs do: They show us how to live.
And she knows,
It's usually a good idea to go back to bed.
And then.., And then comes the pen. The wild-eyed morning pen that writes whatever it wants and has a life of its own. Sometimes it’s dribbling, sometimes It’s a boring list of tasks, Sometimes mismatched, random nothing, and sometimes a spark of brilliance.
Sometimes I’m Wonder Woman slaying the villain with my magic phrase. Sometimes I’m flying through the air on a good metaphor or favorite word… or it’s a rhyme. Sometimes my words find rhythm, or cadence, or an idea that jazzes right to the edges of my skin. Sometimes I have scaled tall buildings before I even get out of bed. This is me, out loud, on paper.
She thinks I'm smart.
I need that sometimes. Even when I'm bumbling around, she thinks I'm okay.
Things call me: mail, bills, breakfast, chickens, phone calls, health insurance. But it is all an annoying distraction from my zone of genius hatched only in the cozy, cocooned, crazy, comfort of my bed. My dog, my bed head, and bathrobe come together as one big sparky writing mess.
As I write this, I wonder why I do anything else.
My dog has been wondering this for a long time.
Life with Dogs.
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