Why must I?

always write outside? Even when I travel, I search for a place out in the elements where I can plant my tush, open my laptop and write.

Perhaps walls close in my thoughts.

Or the heater or AC turning on sounds too artificial.

Or I don’t like the fake lighting.

Maybe it’s because I got used to writing (or painting) outside when I was a smoker. But that was long ago.

Maybe it’s because, outside,  I can sit at a table and throw the ball for my mini-Aussie using a right-handed muscle memory with no thought but for the words I write.  So he and I, kill two stones with one bird (yes I meant it that way) – and it makes us both happy as he returns for another 50 throws.

I have one of those propane heaters, kinda like restaurants do. So if it’s above 40 degrees, I’m still good to go.

Because I live in Texas, the temp works with me. Right now, I think it’s around 68.

I like the soft wind, the openness, the expanse and, at least the hope of, the unbound creativity where no walls surround me and world shows up and says,

“Howdy do! Break Into – your creative zone”

Any maybe, it’s also because I get to see this:

IMG_0338 (1).jpg

5 thoughts on “Why must I?

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