Getting back into the swing of things since returning from vacation has been difficult. The pile on my desk discouraging, most of all. The thought of tackling all the bits and pieces I brought back littering my desk is as bad as the flowerbeds needing attention. But if I’m to treat my writing seriously, I have to treat it like any other job and get to it.
I only himed and hawed a little, after all, most of the piles were writings or pictures I took to use for prompts for poetry I began while vacationing. (Plus a huge stack of books) That’s the thing with a writer. They really don’t have an off switch. Lucky, my husband finally realizes this and facilitates my crazy mind. It’s the criminal scenarios I imagine that can get to him. See, there is always more going on in a situation than meets the eye. Usually nefarious. Anyway, in my writer’s mind.
My poor husband never imagines anyone having some kind of ulterior motive, never thinks someone would do anything untoward to him…until I bring it up. I think this is so because he’s so nice and would never think of doing anything bad to anyone. He just doesn’t have a devious mind or a mind that wonders of motives, sees stories behind everything.
I digress…the desk…my desk…I can finally see the top. I’m ready to get back into my writing, my edits. I’ve filed all my notes, downloaded my pictures, organized a portable poetry workbook I’ve been wanting to do, put away the wonderful books I found in West Yellowstone ( all in one section of The Book Peddler. I could have spent all day and a fortune there, but I limited myself to the Women in the West section.) I’m doing this blog and did get my picture done.
Oh, wait, I didn’t write my news: just before I left for vacation, I got word I was one of eight finalists in the PNWA Literary Contest for my poem: Songbird. I tend to put entries out of my mind, so as not to obsess over them. The phone call took me by surprise. I’m still shocked…tickled…shocked…pleased and shocked.
I’m actually excited to get back to work on my book though, and…hesitant. I’m so hopeful for this book (and series) and afraid it won’t be all I want it to be. But, just like tackling my messy desk, I begin…one little step at a time.
By the way, got to go horseback riding while I was gone. Something, I sure wanted to do again before I no longer could.
How soon can I go again?
