I’m passing through the post-con haze, tempered slightly by a lengthy bout of vertigo Monday afternoon after I got home from the airport (which seemed to be the extent of the WisCholera for me). As always, there is the ennui of not being “there” that creeps in, that sense of dissatisfaction of having gone from the writing life at 100% back to the more normal 10% to 20% that the daily regime allows. That’s a great part of the frustration with coming home is that we have to return to our regularly ordered lives, and all the feverish (the non-plague kind) notions brought to life by being around your fellow writers must be spun out over a long span of time. In a way, these are the notions that preserve us until the next time we see each other, and while it isn’t nearly as much fun when they must be eked out, it is our lifeline.

I miss my tribe, which is silly as they are all but an IM away. But, really, I miss SEEING them. I miss hearing them laugh (even Jeremy), I miss seeing their eyes light up as the idea takes hold, I miss watching the world stroll by with them, I miss the electricity of the storm breaking as the cards hit the table, I miss that dangerous and giddy moment when small boys are let loose in the candy store, and I miss the camaraderie of not creating alone.

But, most of the hard work happens “here,” and when it is done and I need more to do, well, it will be time to go “there” again.