I went to my writing class on Thursday night. Our teacher Barbara was amazing, as usual. She sent us on a treasure hunt. There were six places to find treasure on the hunt. At each spot, we were told there would be a small dish of candy. I didn't know the other three writers in class. I'd been traveling and unable to attend like regular. There was one new writer and two of the writers had been attending together for a while. We all used the clues Barbara gave us to find the places where the treasure would be. We made our way around the small courtyard of the 19th century home in Pacific Grove. It was pretty fun. But there was one spot where the candy should have been and wasn't, a laundry area. Well all tried looking for it, but had trouble locating the laundry room. Two of us gave up. Two of us went hunting, unlocked an unwelcoming gate, peeked inside a sort of cramped dark space to find a stacked washer and dryer. But, there wasn't any candy where we expected it to be. One of us wanted to get an extra look inside to make double-sure we hadn't missed it. I was part of the pair that searched almost every inch for it. Afterwards, Barbara asked how we felt when we didn't find the candy. Curious, was mostly how I felt. Then she asked us if that's how we feel about our writing. She asked us to think about what our treasure is. And if we know what it is, she wanted us to think about how we stayed connected to it.

Happy Saturday!