Dean
is a freelance writer and member of Northern Colorado Writers. His work has
appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Parenthood, TROUT magazine, Torrid
Literature Journal and other literary magazines. His essays won three separate
contests at www.midlifecollage.com.
For 26 years,
Miller has kept the skies safe as an air traffic controller for the FAA and
received the National Air Traffic Controllers Association (NATCA) Northwest
Mountain Region 2010 Archie League Safety Award. In his spare time, he enjoys
fly fishing and he is an avid supporter and volunteer for the veteran’s support
group Project Healing Waters Fly Fishing. He lives in Colorado with his wife and
their two dogs, Bear and Snickers.
My First Writing Sabbatical by Dean K Miller
I enter my hotel room in
Shenandoah, TX. It is modernized late ‘70s, only because they’ve removed the
avocado green from the decor. Orange, gold, and red tones dominate the
furnishings and floors. The shower curtain logo says it all: “wake up on the
bright side.”™ There is no other option. On the plus side, the slight musty
smell is definitely early ‘90s. Regardless, I am full of anticipation, for the
next three days this is not only my home, but site of my first writing
sabbatical. I plan hours of uninterrupted writing around my daughter’s swim
meet, which is why I’m in town.
Finally, I am ready to
begin, except the hotel’s Wi-Fi has dumped. That means no access to Hearts of Space,
my favorite writing music. As the ever-prepared traveler, I have a back-up
plan. Out comes my IPOD and I fire up MS Word on my laptop. Who needs the
Internet anyway?
I settle into the orange
mesh “office” chair and gaze across the room at the large red lounge
chair. Hmmm…That might be more comfortable. Too late; I’ve
already set up my writer’s station: Inspirational chips and salsa, enjoyed with
a fine 5.5 ounce plastic bottle of Chardonnay that’s chilling in a Styrofoam
cup. Can it get any better?
But then, Jams from “tech
support” calls. Okay, that’s not his name, but it’s short for “Just a minute,
Sir,” which he states repeatedly. Emboldened by my half-cup of wine (so
delectable in a foam cup fresh from its plastic wrapper) I politely end the
call. I haven’t time for this. I’m a writer on sabbatical. There are words
shouting to be heard on screen. If I need Internet service, I’ll get it at
Starbucks. I’d been there twice already.
The internet problem did
get solved, and over the next 72 hours I enjoyed long blocks of solitary
writing time. I used most of it wisely and moved my works-in-progress forward.
I also finished off the bag of chips, ninety percent of the salsa, four bags of
microwave popcorn and the remaining three mini bottles of wine (thank God for
twist-tops.)
Despite my last hour of
writing being repeatedly interrupted by the maintenance man trying to shut off
the bathtub hot water, I’ve written well and learned several valuable lessons.
These include, but are not limited to: (1) long periods of solitary writing
time are invaluable; (2) I have the discipline to sit and write; (3) focusing
on one project at a time works better (for me) than scatter braining four
simultaneously; and finally, (4) that I enjoy wine from small plastic bottles.
I am already looking forward
to my daughter’s next travel swim meet. I hope she’s as happy with her results
from this trip as I am with mine.
