There's a Catholic church here in Las Vegas with a chapel open to the public 24 hours.
I can spend days and days trying to remember the last time I actually had a conversation with The Man. But, with all that's happened, I closed my eyes and poured out my heart.
I prayed that my little friend is safe and has someone to feed and care for him.
I prayed my wife would suffer less in the days ahead - his leaving has caused her a great deal of pain.
And I told Him how I was not trying to use or abuse the story of what brave, pious men did in the 1700s to spread His word in the Californias. My goal was and is to let many know what life was like and set things straight. They did not enslave the Indians, treating them like their own children. I also made a promise to Him that we won't discuss in a place like this.
And, much to my surprise, it broke my writer's block and the story is unfolding in front of me. I know how to deal with the main character's grief for the loss of his beloved wife and carry the story of founding the final of the 21 missions at the same time.
I've read endless threads on writer's block and that short period in a chapel sure got rid of mine.
Back to work!