Room to Write

Rural life includes small towns surrounded by ranches, farms or dry ground. I live in one of those towns on the southern Colorado prairie. The nearest sizable city is an hour west on a two-lane roadway through scrub land or verdant, irrigated fields. On the way I might pass fifteen cars coming or going. Such traffic.

The internet connects me to the wide world of news and views. While a metropolitan area offers large bookstores, restaurants, shopping, medical services, plays, concerts and movies, it also carries the attendant traffic and noise. Cities vibrate with stress and hurry up. How lovely to drive towards home. Soon, I relax, set the cruise control, and let the busy-ness of the city drain away. During the ride, I mull over a storyline, think through a block, conjure up a character, so that by the time I reach my cozy, little office in the spare room, I’m ready to write the next chapter or blog.

Room to write means more than space. It means my mind is not cluttered or harried. Small town living is laid-back, undemanding. Deadlines are welcome, not dreaded.

Colorful characters abound. Not just the family whose ranch has passed down to four generations, but the relative newcomer who runs a large cattle ranch and is a Ph.D. Local rodeo performers and events like “mutton-bustin’” entertain and provide rich background for stories and interviews.

Wherever you live, writers find each other. Our group lives within an 85 mile radius. When we can’t meet physically, we meet online, exchange materials for critique and encourage one another.

We’re not all hicks just because some of us wear cowboy hats and can line dance. We train horses, raise bees, read books and write poetry.

And our favorite song is “Don’t Fence Me In.”

                                                                                       Pat Zabriskie