It's amazing how crabby I become on Monday morning when I'm forced to cut short my weekly easing-into-the-week ritual of methodically listing and ordering the week's scheduled tasks. I like my lists. I do not like having my listings interrupted by impromptu Monday morning meetings. And as a discussion about printing costs and format sizes ate into more and more of my morning list time, I started feeling incredibly unsettled and annoyed.
I have not yet recovered. I may never recover.
But never mind! Because this is the year I'm going to take a stab at writing a novel and shaking loose some of the creative constipation by banging my head against a keyboard into the wee hours of the morning.
It'll be fun, honest. I'll have the bruises to prove it.
Writing doesn't start until November 1, but I'm already off to a great start. I jumped out of bed to jot some ideas on a random piece of paper the other night. Now I cannot find it. And I have no idea what I wrote, except that I'm sure it would be really embarrassing if anyone else were to read it.