“There is nothing happier than a writer not writing.”
- John Updike
Well, it didn’t take long before Friend J had me sorted out. The charming littlevisitor to my magnolia tree is a downy woodpecker. He had me fooled with his diminutive size and the stout little beak; I was convinced he was a finch of some sort. But no. Definitely a downy woodpecker. He returned just this morning and pecked at the suet block as though to confirm the fact.
A classic case of things not being what they seem, which is a nifty plot device. I must thank the little woodpecker for a bit of inspiration next time he’s around.
Meanwhile, a slow dawning has occurred to Yours Truly. Now that the major dust has settled from the launching of Harbour View, and I’m balancing my working life with my writing life, I realise that no matter how successful I become as a writer (and I do measure success by publication, among other things), with every new short story, or novel, or children’s story, it’s a matter of starting over again. Not only in the writing and the re-writing, but in the shopping around and submitting and finding a home for my words that’ll allow people to read them. Square One.
Recently a friend broke the news that a hat I was knitting just wasn’t going to work. With all the tinkering I’d done to the pattern, it would have fit a beach ball. My friend was amazed to see me rip the whole thing out with a big grin on my face. I knit because I enjoy knitting, I told her.
It’s a good thing I enjoy writing.