In the past
few days I've not had my priorities in the right place. I've had time to
read spam-y emails, junky newspaper flyers and bird watch. Woodpeckers, robins and blue jays are arguing in my yard right now—a squabble of colour.
But I’ve not
had time to work on the most important stuff. I guess that’s called
procrastination. For me right now, my writing is the important stuff. I’m trying to prepare
my Amber Stone for submission to my publisher and I don’t want to disappoint
them. But I’ve been having some issues with the timeline and so I’ve been
struggling and struggle leads to doing everything but, but of course the BUT is
big on my mind.
So while it looks like I’m procrastinating, my backburner is
cooking on low and I must go to that pot of words and I must re-taste and add
and delete and stir and taste some more. I’ve put in so much time and added so
many ingredients.
Hmm. How did that happen? My manuscript has become a pot of soup.
Now that isn’t a bad metaphor for what the writing process is like. And if you
ignore the soup for too long it dries out and shrivels up and all you have left is a burned
pot. So excuse me, I smell something cooking and I must return to the pot.
I'll keep my eyes on the birds, though. Woodpeckers, robins and blue jays are welcome to waste my time—anytime.
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