I spent the day puttering.
Made a few pieces of jewelry. Repaired a jade necklace that a client had brought back. First loose clasp in a year or so. I put together a pair of jade earrings as an apology.
Put together a couple of memory bracelets, hematite and purple sage catseye, and a purple sage catseye necklace.
Played phone tag with an agency that’s trying to book my palm reading services for a women’s fair. Let a home insurance appraiser check out our furnace.
Handed off a box of old mystery paperbacks and several bags of old clothes to a charity.
Diddled about far too much on Live Journal.
I was getting a little impatient with myself. I hadn’t done any writing all day. Christ. I was losing it. Ought to beat my head into envelope shape and mail it to the dead letter office.
I made a big mess of scalloped potatoes, threw the leftover porkroast in, with a bagful of baby carrots, and drowned them all in a cheesy white garlic sauce, topped it with a bunch of chopped green onions, and refrigerated it for tomorrow and Thursday supper.
Had pork curry for tonight’s supper with a hearty mess of mescal, caesered up.
Then I went downstairs. There was a story I’d been poking at. I left that untouched. There was another manuscript that I wasn’t happy with. I picked it up and new exactly what to do. Typed for an hour and a half, nailing the story that had sat there, sad and vapid, vacuous as a beached herd of jellyfish.
Wow. Is there any better feeling than that? The angels swoop down on burning wings, singing pyrotechnic allelujahs to my creative genius. Sure, it’s just a story, but after a dry spell it’s a drink of water after a 100 mile bellycrawl across burning glass.
Moments like this are what keeps me coming back for more.
* * *
Just recieved a gorgeous hardcover copy of Tom Monteleone’s FEARFUL SYMMETRIES, from CD press. What an amazing looking book. I can’t wait to dig into it. I’ve just finished reading Scott Nicholson’s THE MANOR. A great little yarn. And I’m pretty nearly finished Lansdale’s DEAD IN THE WEST. Three good books, three good reads. No turkeys.
* * *
Tomorrow I’m back to work at the shop again. Tuesdays are my standard day off, and the day I usually reserve for writing. Tomorrow I’ll tote a book to read, and bring along the draft of that story and tighten it up. Thursday I’ll send it off to some publisher.
In the words of Hannibal – “I love it when a plan comes together.”
Yours in horror,