Some days I compare writing a book on the oral history of a village to creating a painting.  Not that I am a painter, but I have friends who paint and listening to them describe how their work is going seems very similar to my project.  I have to take a step back and look at where the book is going.  I need to add a quote here, a citation there, like brush strokes added to a work of art.  Then I must take out a repetitive statement, put in another interviewee, read more about the period.  The work continues to grow. My artist friends and I create for similar reasons: an urgency to express something that won’t leave us alone.  Nor do we have any idea what will eventually happen to our work.

Now if only my back wouldn’t hurt so when I am at the computer.  Another lesson to be learned.  Don’t ski on ice with heavy backpack when tired!