the novel’s been on it

Endeavoring to write a novel & build a blog is not feasible in my world. Even telling myself one week this, next week that, I find it difficult (impossible, really, dislike using the word, but there it is). When I begin something, my world and whole focus go into it. Plus, it’s not all I do: I work part-time from home, care for the house and garden, cook (usually w/ my husband, I must add), endeavor to exercise (obviously also dislike the word try), keep in touch with family. Like everyone else.

but scenes and dialogue grow

disparately and everywhere, and I continue warehousing, as my husband calls what I do — have answers, snippets, whole ideas, stuff ready for whenever it’s needed. I have done this for most of my life. When asked for something, I can usually pull it out of a figurative shelf. Nutty. I know.  But it was a great asset professionally. I create and do things better without expectations, so I do them ahead of time, even if not needed. At some point, they will be — know enough to make educated guesses.

most of the time, anyway

refuse to write the definition of nutty

it’s just not pretty

I will return to writing A Tale To Tell in the morning, and work on posts in the afternoon to get ahead of the calendar. That way, in about a week or two, I will only have to write whatever I’d like to share from a specific day. Although, what I really, really should do is market Mine To GiveAnd ponder how and where to post snippets, thoughts, quotes. Lines that float around me. They need to go on something other than paper.