I think I may need to build an office in the graveyard. Not just any graveyard – the graveyard where my son is buried.
Whenever I need a little peace and quiet, and perhaps some clarity of thought, I visit his grave. It’s become a bit of a ritual. I often take my journal along, and jot down some of the thoughts wandering around my mind. In the past, when I’ve had a public speaking engagement, I’ve gone there to put the finishing touches on my talk, or even practice.
Lately, I’ve had a bit of a semi-regular writing gig for a daily inspiration type of magazine. I’ve written 6 short pieces for it, and 4 out of the six have been written at the graveyard. Today I went there for about half an hour and wrote 2 of them. I’m not sure what it is, but when I sit by his grave, my creative thoughts seem to tumble out in perfect order. The ideas come as if from thin air, and I rarely have to edit.
I think my muse likes to hang out in the graveyard because there are so many stories there to keep it company.