10:52am, 13°C & cloudy, but the clouds are the lumpy kind that could break apart any moment to reveal sunshiny sky.
It’s impressive that I’m here writing at such an EARLY hour. Early for me, anyway.
And how foolish I was to think I could begin to write without some form of hot tea. Plain water or otherwise, I cannot muster a word without it. This is wonderful news as it’s been an intention of mine to cultivate my eccentricities. Success!
There is a lot to write about. Baby robins. Lotus blossoms coming out of my back (more on that later). So much action.
Plus, I’ve officially begun my little e-book. It’s true. Just writing drafty bits but it feels like a win for me already. Yay me!
I feel a bit scattered this morning, I’m not settled into my words or thoughts just yet. That’s what this warm up writing is about though… just dump out all the jumbly nonsense so I can be here, at the laptop, ready to strike the moment the words come – while the iron’s hot, as they say. It’s like that quote about sitting down to write each day, waiting silently for the muse to show up. And then when she comes, to clobber that bitch. Hheh. I’ll find that quote…
Yesterday I read this girl Emelia‘s post, which was in the form of an open letter to parents from a non-parent. It was brilliantly done. Ripe, even vulgar words – they were simple and they struck hard and right in the heart. She used the word vulva. I’ve never done that in writing. Maybe I should try. But in what context would I set the word vulva? It’s so specific and rare. Well, the vulva itself isn’t, of course, but to actually write it? And not in a medical text? Rare indeed. Like a truly fine and large ruby. Big diamonds are a dime a dozen. But a big juicy ruby? No. Not easy. Although, I’m not sure that I’d want to associate vulvae(!) with ruby red. I mean, nobody wants a crimson red inflamed vulva, right? Unless, of course, it was from super good times. But then we’d have to give pretext to set the scene. And I’ve never written about sex and already I’m recoiling away from the keyboard in terror.
So maybe I’ll try to write about the precious vulva on another day.
Now that I’ve got that squirmy topic out of the way, perhaps I can ready myself for further writing of le book (which is a different book than I mention on the top right of this site and no, I’ve never told you about it before). It cannot be assumed that a petit book is any easier to write than an epic novel one can use to prop up sofas that are missing a leg. In fact, it’s quite true that it is more difficult to use fewer words than many words. T’is more tricky to write tight prose than meandering multi-adjectived painted dog paragraphs.
This compels me to work on my craft. To dig in, to risk paper cuts and copy-pasting and deleting without mercy. At least, in theory… To actually do practice exercises as recommended by my Writers magazine…. Hmmmm maybe that too shall wait another day.
But the days seem to keep coming, which is promising. Scarlett O’Hara once told me, “After all, tomorrow is another day” and I believe her. This is an excellent tool for the committed procrastinator. Indeed.
Perchance I could make one wee attempt. I could take a look at the words, but not edit them. I won’t add more words. Nor will I delete. And I certainly won’t start a new chapter. No, I’ll just take a little looksie.
Images via Precious-Priceless, Wallpaper Gate and Technicolor Dreams.
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