Update: In response to one of the comments left below, I began to feel guilty (maybe more like petrified) about using this picture of a print. In order to avoid the copyright police I did the best I could to find the artist – not a difficult task and it came with a bonus. Check out Art That Makes You Laugh but be forewarned – you will laugh, be inspired and want to own one of his pieces. And just so you know, Jeff Leedy responded to my confession and says the picture can stay.
What the heck happened this year? And the blog? Where did it go? I just realized the titles for my last three posts could tell a story. Three months ago I mentioned I wanted to write. Nine days later marijuana had arrived. Two months after that I looked at the news feed on Facebook and saw it was I Love to Write Day.
So here’s the story. I felt trumped. No amount of word tweaking, plot twisting, or new endings could turn my 90,000 word memoir into the Erma Bombeck kind of masterpiece I had imagined in my head. It was just not going to happen. In an angry moment I placed Trumpette (our neurotic cat) dangerously close to the delete key.
But, a miracle happened. Marijuana had arrived. Trumpette inhaled a hefty dose and the next thing I knew she was attacking fireflies at the patio door in the middle of a sunny day. Wait. I got that wrong. We don’t have fireflies in California. I guess it was night time and they were moths. It seems I was in a kind of fog, maybe a contact high? I found myself back at the keyboard. Magic happened. While Trumpette purred off the pot, I rewrote the entire book. In one night. It was done. I sent it off to the publisher. And then I quit writing until I-Love-To-Write-Day came.
Remember that Bullet Journal I had started a few months back? I began a new list:
- Blog – maybe consider fiction
- Send Trumpette to rehab
- Find out why the publisher hasn’t contacted me
- Revise – try again
After making a resolution to put writing on my calendar, and carving out two hours to keep this resolution, Microsoft thinks it’s appropriate to update my Windows 10. I thought these things were supposed to happen at night while I am fitfully trying to sleep. We are now forty-five minutes into my two hour appointment with my keyboard and only 32% finished. No other party but the god of Microsoft would dare to interfere with MZ’s calendar. Just ask my family.
I resorted to working on my bosses computer. We won’t tell him. However, if I happen to turn on this computer under duress of a work deadline, especially on payroll day, and find this red screen of dread, I’m fairly sure there will be hell to pay. Which reminds me, I have this catchy little tune in my head The Bells of Hell Go Ting a ling a ling thanks to a post on my pastor’s Facebook page. No, we did not sing this in church this morning. Hubby wishes I’d stop humming it and get on with my writing.