Ooh, look at the time. I got on my Chromebook hoping to make Sunday’s blog post on Monday then got distracted by Facebook. I am easily distracted. Just about the time I thought I would get off Facebook and read for a while (you know, a book), I remembered the blog. Full disclosure: I have not much to blog about. I confess that the main reason I continue to post every day (or as close as I can get) is to have myself Write Something, Anything.
By my rules for me, Any Writing Counts, be it here (and, yes, I often quote Truman Capote’s, That’s not writing, that’s typing), in the TV Journal, letters or post cards, etc. By those rules, I do write every day at least something. I keep hoping I can transition into writing novels, like my sister Diane E. Young does (I should talk about her books for a blog post sometime). I used to work on novels all the time.
A few blooms to cheer myself up.
I decided to throw in a picture, because I was getting kind of bogged down. These are some lilacs in my neighborhood that bloomed unexpectedly. Can I, too, blossom unexpectedly? People do it all the time, start new paths and projects at an advanced age.
I went searching for this in my Media Library.
A writing friend once pointed out to me that writing about not writing is still writing. However, writing about not writing will not get me a novel, unless it is a novel about a dithery old woman who ends up not writing a novel. Personally, I prefer a more plot-driven vehicle.
I guess this post has been to encourage me to take up my pen and start that first draft. A week or so ago I jotted down some notes on a potential murder mystery. I think I should pull them out and get started. First I’ll have breakfast. Best not to do these things on an empty stomach.
Mohawk Valley Girl 