I haven't been blogging much and it is hard to decide what to actually share here before this month is over. I decided against putting WIP or short stories here just yet. I suppose I could share my reading list which has been quite varied, mention all the side work that is going on in our week-ends and a few week-nights as well as mix in my personal journey . Mmmmmmm, No. I'm just going to end the month with reflection and thanks.
The first morning of May was lit with sunshine. Seems like a good omen for beginning my "Story A Day" Challenge for the month of May. I created the Writing Room page for that and other wip so that I don't have to chase through my blog should I want to edit, expand or toss out. Makes it easier to link as well. Feel free to leave comments. I don't even mind criticism if you're nice about it.
Tired of slogging through paragraphs that land in a sale queue while the whine of a power saw and pounding of a hammers pierce my air space. The gray sky paints the picture outside my window as I write. That and traffic. I don't think Hemmingway had to put up with this. Just typing his name shakes the dust off memories of sunny skies, warm ocean air and drinking in the early afternoon.
A garden is a delight to the eye and a solace for the soul.
The quote was from my yogi tea bag today. Sadly the spring like weather we experienced recently was but a brief respite before winter took back its turf. I'm forced to shelve my gardening gloves and impatiently wait for true spring to arrive.
Blogging maven I guess I am not. I don't post regularly and I use this site as my quick drop zone when I have a paragraph or two of words that need thrown down quickly , to be sorted out later in the untitled chapters of story in progress. A place where words are saved.
Then I come back another day and move them to the sorting place.
It tends to interfere with pithy insights of a blogging life and likely confuses the few people that actually stroll by.
All I can say is come if you're interested and take it as you will. My written pieces will come and go. I make no promises and ask no forgiveness as I fling words around.
The picture doesn't show the wind whipping the trees back and forth nor rain drops finding their way down. An ordinary day at first glance. But the wind was gusting through the branches causing the trees to dance as if their lives depended on it. Rain fell fast from the grayness above.
Cars with their drivers hunched over steering wheels passing houses where wind chimes sounded their forlorn notes.
I am who I am, uniquely me.