Frazzled but sober, over-tired but sober, exasperated with my computer’s ongoing hassles but sober. The silver lining to any quotidian dark cloud.
A youngster with spots, shaving cuts and a large Adam’s apple has just knocked on the door and sold me a bottle of lavender water for scenting linen. His grandmother distills her own lavender essence from heads of flowering lavender and makes up bottles of aromatic water to supplement her pension. Her grandson is accompanied by a small Jack Russell that lifts its leg on the doorstep, sending my small girly dogs into a frenzy of excitement and outrage. I was just grateful for an excuse to stop writing for 10 minutes. Any distraction will do. My writing is going nowhere.
Read this strongly worded piece of tough love to get myself back to the grindstone, from veteran speculative fiction writer John Scalzi:
But if you want to be a writer, then be a writer, for god’s sake. It’s not that hard, and it doesn’t require that much effort on a day to day basis. Find the time or make the time. Sit down, shut up and put your words together. Work at it and keep working at it. And if you need inspiration, think of yourself on your deathbed saying “well, at least I watched a lot of TV.” If saying such a thing as your life ebbs away fills you with existential horror, well, then. I think you know what to do.