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I think I should write more. I think I shouldn't worry about whether it fits into anything else. I think I should be able to write 100-1000 words of fiction about anything.
But it is ridiculously hard to sit down and do it when nothing jumps out at me. When the prompt is stupid, it's hard to care. And we all know that the worst thing that can be done for writing is when the writer doesn't care. Followed immediately by a writer who is desperately obsessively possessive of their idea to the exclusion of any skill or talent permeating the resulting story. (This is my most common complaint, "That was a really great idea and [author] wasted it writing it themselves.")
I like writing evocative vignettes (I don't like plot much as a reader and it shows in my writing.) So I really should be able to come up with something about anything.
---
Today I am drinking tea. I made a whole thermal carafe (it was supposed to be for coffee, but I have a thermal French press for coffee) and when I pour the dollop of milk into the mug of hot brewed tea, it swirls on its own. It reminds me of that song, "Windmills of the Mind", with the line, "Like a circle in a spiral; like a wheel within a wheel."
I'm on my fourth standard-mug of tea though and still not revved for the morning. It's 3pm and I want a nap. Going back to coffee tomorrow. On the plus side, my stomach is tolerating the coffee better lately. I guess I just need to keep up with the yogurt and taking care of my stress levels.
-----
Today I have finished bleaching my bathroom ceiling. I know people buy those swiffer things for their floors, but I found it inordinately useful for doing my ceiling. I used a square rag because the disposable floor cleaning cloths don't hold up that well to long projects and I wanted to be able to wash it and wring it out if needed. I am very pleased with how well that worked. It was still kind of drippy, but the pole was long enough that I could avoid standing directly under the mop head. The pole was stiff enough that I could scrub at stubborn spots. And it was here, so I did not need to find a handy (or not so handy) tall person who could stand on a stepstool. I could fix it myself.
But it is ridiculously hard to sit down and do it when nothing jumps out at me. When the prompt is stupid, it's hard to care. And we all know that the worst thing that can be done for writing is when the writer doesn't care. Followed immediately by a writer who is desperately obsessively possessive of their idea to the exclusion of any skill or talent permeating the resulting story. (This is my most common complaint, "That was a really great idea and [author] wasted it writing it themselves.")
I like writing evocative vignettes (I don't like plot much as a reader and it shows in my writing.) So I really should be able to come up with something about anything.
---
Today I am drinking tea. I made a whole thermal carafe (it was supposed to be for coffee, but I have a thermal French press for coffee) and when I pour the dollop of milk into the mug of hot brewed tea, it swirls on its own. It reminds me of that song, "Windmills of the Mind", with the line, "Like a circle in a spiral; like a wheel within a wheel."
I'm on my fourth standard-mug of tea though and still not revved for the morning. It's 3pm and I want a nap. Going back to coffee tomorrow. On the plus side, my stomach is tolerating the coffee better lately. I guess I just need to keep up with the yogurt and taking care of my stress levels.
-----
Today I have finished bleaching my bathroom ceiling. I know people buy those swiffer things for their floors, but I found it inordinately useful for doing my ceiling. I used a square rag because the disposable floor cleaning cloths don't hold up that well to long projects and I wanted to be able to wash it and wring it out if needed. I am very pleased with how well that worked. It was still kind of drippy, but the pole was long enough that I could avoid standing directly under the mop head. The pole was stiff enough that I could scrub at stubborn spots. And it was here, so I did not need to find a handy (or not so handy) tall person who could stand on a stepstool. I could fix it myself.
