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Yesterday, I quoted Werner Herzog, in his sentiment that our creative works should come from personal experience. Today, I’m not sure that was such a good idea.

I’m a mystery writer. Personal experience in my line of writing can be exciting, but is also disturbing and dangerous. Well, today I got way too much personal experience in what it feels like to have your front door kicked in by burglars and your house dusted for prints by the police. True, I can now accurately write the emotions and details associated with having your house violated and robbed, and maybe one day I’ll be able to appreciate this newfound knowledge that will enrich my writing, but right now it’s just not funny.

All that said, I’m grateful that my husband and I are safe…considering he was here shortly before it happened and I almost came home when it probably was happening…and the kitties are safe and sound, since the thief was polite enough to shut the door behind them. I am grateful…and fearful they’ll come back.

Today, my original writerly act feels like the aside now, but it’s still worth mentioning. This morning I took my laptop with me (thank goodness!) and headed off to a cafe to do some writing before going to work. I haven’t done that for so long. I treated myself to coffee and an amazing yogurt with granola and apples, and sat with my laptop as the sun burned off the fog around us. That part of my day, and that writerly experience, was quite nice.

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