It is a rainy day here, drizzling and grey. I love these kinds of days if I am able to stay home. I spend the day first cleaning the house and doing a few of those less frequent chores like cleaning the fridge or the ceiling fan blades. I might then set a loaf of challah bread to rise and bake later. It might be a good day to roast some bones for bone broth and make a French onion soup. And then the real purpose for the day: to write. I have a critiqued manuscript in a box that, if I accept the suggestions, might actually be two manuscripts, two separate novels. With a bit of surgical precision, I can excise the back story of the novel and make it a free standing story of its own. The suddenly, Viola! I have two novels. I realize I have been somewhat avoidant of writing, not because of block but rather that I know I will vanish into the world of my story and frankly….I am quite enamored with this real life I have created. The only benefit for me is the luxury of spending time with a few characters that I adore and whom do not have real world counterparts.
But alas, I need to go to work…..