It’ll be here for two days.
The unfamiliar sighs of relief from every resident of the Lone Star state have echoed everywhere. Seems like my home has been plagued by a perpetual drought for the last decade. Seattle, Boston, Providence, New York- thanks for sharing some of your commonplace weather with me. They’re worth dancing for here where I live.
My hubby brought back a white chocolate mocha for me from Starbucks. The only things missing are a wood fire and one of my mom’s quilts.
That’s right people… I’m stuck.
I can’t get past a certain scene in the manuscript I’ve free-written without any plotting or sketching. And I can’t get my butt in gear to focus on outlining. Not because I keep getting down-trodden from more rejections (I refuse to admit that). But because my muse has decided to hide behind the rain clouds today.
My son’s down for a nap, so I have at least 1.5hrs of free time. And spending it stuck in limbo is as frustrating as a recovering chocoholic in a Buncha-Crunch factory.
I won’t have time later this weekend, since we have a birthday party to go to later today and a bunch of errands tomorrow (and taking time to go to a writer’s meeting).
I thought the rain was supposed to bring out my muse. Why is it hiding? Or perhaps you’re trying to tell me something much more important. That perhaps I don’t want to hear.