Blarney

I got nothing today. Seriously nothing, blogwise.  As in zip, zilch, nada, empty, dry, tumbling tumbleweeds through the echoing expanse of my head when it comes to blog topics for this midweek post. Only the thought of Skye making excuses for my lag (not a kind thing to do to a kitty) keeps me moving forward here. If there’s such a thing as blogger’s block, the only way through it is through it, and so here we are. Which is all a fancy way of saying I’m winging it today, at the end of the day, instead of yesterday, at the start of it.

Yesterday was one of  those domestic tornadoes that would have their own special on the weather channel, but things are settling now. I have heard there is a thing called “sleep” that I might like to try, but it is still daylight, and so not yet time.  Yesterday, I did manage to get out of the house despite the tornado, but the entirety of my blogging experience was staring at the screen, making a noise  best described as “ummmmhhhh…” Okay, I didn’t really make an audible noise. I made a mental noise, but that’s what it sounded like in my head. I think. I’m punchy, so it’s all pretty much a fog.

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Look, ducks, to distract from lack of wordage. Inversely as many ducks as productive blog ideas today. The fact that these ducks are from yesterday shames me. :hangs head:

 

I started today with the best of intentions. To do list made (mentally, that is, which was probably a mistake, in retrospect, because I forgot a big chunk of it) and self hustled out the door only an hour or two (ish?) later than intended, due to aforementioned punchiness. This brought me to Panera around (very early) lunchtime. I ordered a cup of tomato soup. They gave me a bowl. This may have thrown me. That is a big bowl. Like, a really big bowl, but I knew I was camping, so the longer I had food in front of me, the less obvious my camping would be.

 

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A lot of tomato soup. Also a lot of bread. Next time, I’m bringing a friend. Who likes soup. And bread.

 

My plan was to bang out a blog entry, which, in my notebook, I’d made some stabs at acknowledging the holiday. I might be part Irish. Maybe. Or possibly English. Potentially both. My birth mother’s last name (I don’t know her first name)  has both Irish and English roots. The part of Virginia where I was born, where there are a lot of people with that last name, is also where the Crown used to drop off convict labor back in the day, so speculate at will as to how my biological ancestors first crossed the pond, at least on birth mother’s side. Which is exactly where my brain petered out on that idea.

:cue cricket sounds here:

:cricket sounds echo:

:tumbleweed blows past:

:more crickets:

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Okay, no blog entry? Let’s try book. Book works. Yay, book.

 

 

Some days, it’s not going to happen. This was one of those mornings, blogwise. Couldn’t force it, couldn’t command it, couldn’t push through. Prompts left me cold, quotes left me doubting my ability to understand English, and my Hypercritical Gremlins’ ears perked. So, okay, we’ll put the blog entry off for later. Instead, I opened Scrivener and worked on the draft of the scene I’d been working on later. That clicked. Blue font, to let me know what phase of this thing I was on, and Hero and Heroine got chatty, writing the dialogue for me. Except for that one part where I forgot where they were and thought they were in the middle of the previous scene (I figured it out within a couple of paragraphs, so easily fixed) I’d say that went rather well. :pats self on back:

That unlocked one of the things I need to know for the next scene, so I’m confident in picking up there again tomorrow. I’ll make some notes tonight and then back to work tomorrow. Which is all great for the book, but…blog. Blogging three times a week is a discipline I need to keep, to strengthen the writing muscles, keep them supple, and remind myself that yes, I can do it, even if all I can do on a given day is babble.

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Mas ducks. Ducks of distraction. 

 

 

Whee, magic seven hundred words have been reached. This calls for Canada geese, because I think the big male may be reading this blog. At the very least, he’s keeping tabs on me in some form (seriously, he has some potent stink-eye; trust me on this. I assume the other boy geese know to stay well away from him and his woman.)

 

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Nothing to see here. Move along. No pictures. Keep walking, human.

 

 

Normally, this is where I’d make some sort of closing statement, but, once again, I got nothing. (Hey, repeat of my opening. At least this entry is structurally sound. That’s something, right?) Time to kick back and focus on taking in, rather than putting out. Time for tea and blankey and books and Sims and TV with the hubby and cat stares and what’s-for-dinner and online chatting. There may or may not be dancing in the kitchen.

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