No Sandcastles

Sometimes writing can feel as carefree as building sand castles.

And sometimes I do not want to sit at my desk. Or window seat.

Today was that second kind of day. I muttered. I grumbled. I yelled at the dog (The cute one. Who is loud). I wished the phone would ring. Even if it was just a reminder about the dentist. Even if it was bad news, at least it would be a distraction. I made more tea. Ate half a lemon bar. I can’t believe that yesterday I called being in the middle of a book my favorite part of the writing process.

And finally got to work. Pushing around old sentences that didn’t sing. Pawing through words that seemed saggy. Feeling tired of my characters: why couldn’t a new and charming one show up?

Why isn’t the phone ringing when I want it to? Now even the dog isn’t barking.

But at last my characters started to seem a little bit interesting again. And pages completed got slightly longer. Tomorrow there’s always hope I’ll start on a better note. Remembering that sometimes there’s just a lot of terrible traffic on the way to the beach. And sometimes the sand looks kind of nasty. But something is better than nothing when it comes to castles or manuscripts, so it’s okay to whine to yourself, make peace with the dogs, maybe finish off the lemon bar, and see what you can find in the too bulky words and over-familiar characters.

Or sometimes you have to put down the virtual shovel and bucket and put on a very virtual jacket and black pants. Get out the virtual lint brush for dog hairs. And get to work.