Don’t even try talking to me before I’ve sucked down a couple of cups of coffee. Coffee must be sucked down while I’m out on the front porch, with a cheap cigar.
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It’s noon, I’ve been up since 6:30 AM and I still haven’t bothered writing anything down. I’ve been trying to get in the habit of jotting something down every morning and putting it up by 8 or 9 AM. I hear practice makes perfect, even in writing. I’d settle for error free.
I never was sure how long my interest in doing this would last, but since I’m currently sitting around waiting for work and have nothing else to do, I thought I’d keep plugging along.
Mornings like this make it that much more difficult.
Luckily I have an attached two car garage I can go hang out in when things turn miserable. Over night the temperatures dropped nearly 40 degrees and the winds are howling, literally. Last night the wind was rattling the bedroom window, a first, and it’s nice to be able to go hang out in the garage for that morning coffee and smoke free of the chilling blast.
I’ve been out to the garage a few times in the last five hours or so and, nothing, there’s nothing out there. No goose noises coming from the river, no eagles, no song birds, no crows. One lone squirrel came running up to me for his morning share of peanuts and that’s been it. So what to say… I stepped out this morning and all was gray. It was cold. It was windy and not a single living thing could be seen any where…
Okay, done.
I have absolutely no confidence in anything I write. I started writing almost on a whim. When I was painting and drawing years ago I was including short sentences in both, but then one day when I was 32, I quit painting and drawing. Up to that point doing both was constant, then overnight I stopped. Except for the occasional funny quick drawing for my daughters, never did either again.
When I started fishing and exploring on a regular basis, didn’t start that till I turned 40, within a couple of years I started writing down what I was doing while out fishing and exploring. Not sure how that started. I have never taken a writing class and never showed any real interest in writing up till then. But I pretty much haven’t stopped since.
I have no clue who’s been reading this stuff, no clue if they like it, no clue if they get anything out of it. It’s just something I do. Much like I used to do the paintings and drawings. Put a bunch of stuff down on canvas and paper, hang it on the wall and there you go. I treat writing the same way.
So… I stepped out this morning and all was gray. It was cold. It was windy and not a single living thing could be seen any where…
Sounds like as good an excuse as any to go take a nap.
