Worse than that; blinders on.
To all that’s going on around me. A free day today, no extra reading, no framing, no cleaning driveways from the snow, no class, no grumpy father-in-law for dinner, and yet there are several things I need catch up on, if I wanted to.
Or no, that’s not true completely and very honestly. I want to rid myself of the stress of seeing things fall apart around me. Or gather dust.
But all I want to do is write. I have tweaked and found a dozen better words since early dawn. Circling round and slowing to a solid from a blur is an idea for yet another story. I need write other things of course; e-mails, essays, presentations–but these aren’t really writing.
And all I want to do is write.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology