life is short.
I took today off to write. Went to the coffee shop to get away from distractions, all the things at home that compete for my attention.
Forty-minutes in (which is barely anything, when it comes to writing. Takes me an hour just to warm up to the idea), I got a call from one of my closest friends. The bank where she works was robbed this morning. The robber put a gun to her head, made her open the vault. Made her lie on the ground. Made sexist comments about what he would do if he weren't busy robbing the place.
She is as well as can be expected. She's made of iron, that one. She called me right away because the story had already made the news - didn't want me to freak out when I heard.
I wasn't very productive after we hung up (Glad you're not dead! I love you! Well, ok... bye???). In a fit of decisiveness I hacked at the first five chapters of my manuscript, undoing most of the revisions I made this fall. I'm telling myself it's for the best - it makes the story move faster, which will be more marketable in the long run - but it left a bloody mess that I couldn't even begin to start stitching back together today.
Just couldn't focus. (Gee. Go figure.) The coffee shop was too loud. The coffee was too cold. My thoughts were too scattered. In the end, all I did was move things around.
Apparently, I have no new words in me today. Just an urge for change.
Forty-minutes in (which is barely anything, when it comes to writing. Takes me an hour just to warm up to the idea), I got a call from one of my closest friends. The bank where she works was robbed this morning. The robber put a gun to her head, made her open the vault. Made her lie on the ground. Made sexist comments about what he would do if he weren't busy robbing the place.
She is as well as can be expected. She's made of iron, that one. She called me right away because the story had already made the news - didn't want me to freak out when I heard.
I wasn't very productive after we hung up (Glad you're not dead! I love you! Well, ok... bye???). In a fit of decisiveness I hacked at the first five chapters of my manuscript, undoing most of the revisions I made this fall. I'm telling myself it's for the best - it makes the story move faster, which will be more marketable in the long run - but it left a bloody mess that I couldn't even begin to start stitching back together today.
Just couldn't focus. (Gee. Go figure.) The coffee shop was too loud. The coffee was too cold. My thoughts were too scattered. In the end, all I did was move things around.
Apparently, I have no new words in me today. Just an urge for change.