creator, editor, story tender
Hulloo Hallay – it’s been a downsy-upsy sort of day on the bay.
Woke with the fears hanging all over me. The fears that…
It’s gone.
If I ever had a talent for writing…. it is gone.
This was brought home to me by the fact that the story I’ve been working on for the past few days is STINK-KAY! Iccky. Not good. Lame. and … so on.
It was a good idea, but… I just couldn’t do it. The words were just all wrong and it… well…. it sucked. Most of it. Almost all of it.
So…
I proceeded to do everything I could possibly think of to AVOID working on the smelly ole thing.
I snooped around online for at least an hour seeking new long johns… preferably merino wool… preferably not a million dollars… cuz lord knows I wanna be warm this coming winter but lord also knows I’m flat as a patty-cake pancake cash wise. I found some likely looking beauties, but I didn’t order any. Like I said. Broke like a 57 Chevy rotting in the back pasture.
I did the dishes and washed the kitchen floor.
Did I mention that our wonderful shaky-shack on the shores of the Kebsquasheshing has no running water? It was WORK to pump and heat that water for the dishes and the floor and then…
Well then I decided to tackle the composting toilet. Cause… yeah… if you don’t have running water you don’t have a flush toilet and if you don’t have a flush toilet then someone needs to take care of that shit. LITERALLY.
I’ve been meaning to give the toilet a good cleaning for a long while. Today was the day.
And, y’know what? It felt good to take care of that shit. And all the other shit.
And I felt my spirits lifting.
I washed up and ate some soup and then I went for a walk and then I came home and …
Set my timer for 2 hours and got the hell back to work on my story.
I just finished a shiny new draft.
I’m gonna print it out and let it sit overnight. Then I’m gonna look at it in the morning and hope hope hope that I don’t HATE IT as much as I hated the last draft.
Cuz that’s what we have to do.
We have to take care of all our shit – including our writing.
Now… how was your day?
go easy ~p
A post-dramatic approach to breast cancer
Because there's never enough time to do it right the first time but there's always enough time to do it over
Stories and photos from Scotland
Historical fiction, poetry, essays
A post-dramatic approach to breast cancer
Because there's never enough time to do it right the first time but there's always enough time to do it over
Stories and photos from Scotland
Historical fiction, poetry, essays