I took my two little nieces to the zoo today. They’re three and five. If you’ve never taken two little girls to the zoo it consists of a lot of, “When are we getting to the alligator? When are we getting to the alligator?” followed by arrival at the alligator which involves you standing there while two little girls hide behind your legs, clinging to your jeans, asking you if the alligator is still staring at them and can we go please.
They loved the sea otters though. Anyone who doesn’t love sea otters should be given a thorough psychological examination.
There were also a lot of hills and strollers and sun and chaos. Which is nice and restful for me. The thing about writing is that it’s a rather all-invasive procedure. When I’m not at my desk my brain still tends to try to work out plot points or flesh out characters or run dialogue very much against my will. Even while on supposed vacations my brain stupidly refuses to stop thinking about such stuff.
Children, I’ve found, are a wonderful antidote to this; with them around it’s basically impossible to focus on anything.
Specially at the zoo.