With my sister and brothers, I spent many happy hours by the sea. As soon as our picnic lunch had been digested, we would run down the beach to splash, dive, swim, jump the waves, do handstands underwater, toss a beach ball, and gather seaweed - hardly noticing the temperature after the shock of that initial plunge.
"Come on, get in!" we yelled, as our mother hovered at the edge and shivered in her swimsuit. "It's warm when you get used to it!"
At last, Mum would make her decision, take the plunge, swim non-stop for ten to twenty minutes, and go back up to get dry and dressed, leaving us to play.
In high school, my friend Marie spent the fall trimester in France, living with a French family. I wished I'd had the courage to do the same; foreign languages were my forte , but my oral proficiency lagged below the reading and writing. Having to speak a language all the time would have built vocabulary, fluency, and confidence.
Whenever I've taken part in a play, a parade, a book fair with a theme, or a week-long Bible school with kids, the whole world of that event has taken over. Last July I lived and breathed Agency D3; May was all about Fiesta; this month at school, it's Sir Read-a-Lot's Castle.
Total immersion. That will be the key to finishing my work-in-progress. I've hovered too long on the edge. When I set aside other projects (even writing tasks, if not directly related to RIDDLE OF THE SAMOVAR), and surround myself with Texan/Persian/seventies/Alice books, artifacts, pictures and music, each writing session will flow more easily.
Jump in, Hazel. The water's fine!