I suppose I would have woken up earlier (0630 is when I first woke up, 0900 when I got out of bed). I wouldn’t have made a lunch out of left over pad Thai ingredients. Wouldn’t have listened to Raymond Chandler’s THE BIG SLEEP while walking Riley. I wouldn’t have plunked my ass on the couch and watched the movie with the same name with Bogart and Bacall starring.
Great movie. Absolute favourite.
I wouldn’t have made excuses. I would have sat down and written my book. Even now my little notebook is staring me down, accusing me, demanding that I take the time to write. Loose leaf paper sticks out from between its binding, reminding me of the rewrites I need to do to get the story moving again, and make the changes I need to make for the plot. 29 Days To Go! shouts my little timer. June 15th! It’s a bad herald. A news article I don’t want to see in print.
Even now I’m making excuses so as not to write. I can bake! I’ve got shortbread cookie dough sitting in the fridge waiting to be pressed, dusted with sugar, and baked into scrummy cookies. Banana bread, too. I’ve had the request made and it does sound tasty. I certainly need to finish the laundry, it’s been sitting up in my bedroom all week. Needs to be cleaned and folded so I have fresh clothes to wear. And tea. A cuppa sounds nice. Oh, and there’s the foyer that needs to be swept….
Not having a pen readily available to write with won’t work, I found a pen.
As much as I avoid it, circumstance is proving to be in favour of the written word.
Who am I kidding?
It’s not that I don’t want to write. I just don’t have the energy. Despite all the energy it takes to do the tasks above, I am a firm believer in the lack of creative energy. Sure, there’s the story in my head. I have the ending all nice and plotted, the second book, too. My grey matter has even been busy shuffling ideas around, fixing little plot holes and coming up with different ideas for problem areas I’ve been having. I just don’t have the energy to sit and write it all out.
Does that make any kind of sense?
My days off rarely see me with any sort of inclination to do much of anything other than menial tasks that *need* to be done in enough time it takes me to pause my movie and get off the couch.
I have read for the first time in a long time.
Fevre Dream was amazing. George R. R. Martin is brilliant. You should go buy it. Right now. Why are you still reading? Go buy the book! I’ll be here when you get back.
Didjya get it yet? Yeah? Good.
I even picked up Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. To be read on the plane over to Ireland. I will be purchasing the movie.
The fact that I haven’t *really* slept in six months has a lot to do with it, I think. That, and I have had a shitty week. A really, really, shitty week. Brought on by circumstances (stress) at work, and the emotional instability caused by too much rain and not enough sunlight. Good for the aquifers. Not so much for a cheery outlook. I have half a mind to go pick up one of those mood lamp thingies because the weather, while sunny right now, is not set to stay that way in the coming week.
Besides, there are things that need to be done around the house. Things that I have let go unattended that I shouldn’t have. There’s always time between baking and cooking and cleaning to snatch in a few paragraphs in the story.
29 days is not too long away. It’s not coming too soon, either.
It’s all in perspective.