“I have no idea whence this tide comes, or where it goes, but when it begins to rise in my heart, I know that a story is in the offing.”
- Dorothy Canfield
Last week I had a free morning to get the laundry and shopping done, supper in the slow cooker (the slow oven, actually, as the slow cooker has long-since expired), and make a feeble attempt at tidying up around the house, all before trotting off to work from three in the afternoon until ten at night. I’d forgotten during my writing sabbatical, when I employed domesticity as a diversion from thinking time for my writing, how difficult it is to get any of it done while working full-time, writing, and making sure my family are looked-after.
Dear Reader can imagine my surprise when, as I sat down at my computer an hour before the 3:00 rehearsal with the intention of checking my email, what should pop up out of nowhere but the first three pages of a short story! Hmm, I thought, as I madly got the words down. Wonder where that came from?
The days passed, filled with more rehearsals, laundry etc, and then the big concert. I jotted down story notes as they came to me. And now I find myself in a state of cough-and-spew (rhymes with…), sequestered in the Garret with found time to spend on a found story.
Chugging along nicely, thanks!