Our second dinner with the same fascinating and wonderful group of friends as last time. Once again, they did not disappoint.

What struck me most powerfully was the number of ways creativity manifests itself. And I don’t mean, necessarily, the fact that artists and writers were among the conversational company. The thought itself that propelled the words was creative. The ideas certainly were. And the interactions–the ways of encountering–brought the ideas to life with extraordinary energy.

Can one harness this creativity to the tasks and challenges of writing? Can one store it, like the energy in a battery, to draw from it when needed? Haven’t figured that part out yet. I do know that the good feeling lasts, at least into the next day…and the desire to make the experience happen all over again. Now if only my voice would come back. I’ve talked myself hoarse.