I woke early, lay in bed and did some writing on the laptop. A cold morning. Mid-winter. Got up, sent husband and daughter out into the world for work and uni - both gone by eight. Imagined myself to be a real writer at home writing. Thought about Nick Earls drinking smoothies and going for a run. Don't like smoothies (they always seem to have bananas in them *shudder*). Do not possess a running gene. Did the Yoga-Kick boxing workout on DVD. Felt happy when the woman said 'excellent job' and smiled right at me. They're doing their workout on a platform in the wop-wops - in California, I suspect. Blue skies. At one point an eagle soars past.
It's cold here still. Must be 4 degrees here in the wind. Wrote on and off all morning - wondering how creative I am, or is it all just rehashing what I've already written to avoid heading out into new territory. Dropped daughter at funeral. Bought one son some new shoes. Came back from the shops frozen. Headed out into the back garden. Cleaned out rabbit cage. Hay, hay and more hay. It's insidious. Rabbit and cat ran around the hose chasing one another. Decided to be a home handyperson and used electric drill to cut a hole in guinea pig hutch, set up old skateboard as ladder and created new home for rabbit. I never held the drill before. It was powerful. And easier than I thought. The rabbit is a little mystified but he's smart, he'll work it out.
Went back inside, now warm from all that work. Did more writing. Was really racing. I just love making people talk to each other. Following their days. It might not be interesting to anyone else but I just love creating people. It's a passion, I guess. Yeah. How nice, to have a passion.
Damn, I'd love to be a writer.
Maybe, you know, maybe I am. I just have to do it in my spare time. I guess I just wish I had more spare time. But at least there are little windows of opportunity when I CAN DO IT!