Monday Morning Chaos and Order

This past weekend, we had a sick Housemate, Real Life Romance Hero adjusting to his new work schedule, and me at a point of exhaustion where most of my available hours were spent cruising YouTube, to mark videos to watch later. Needless to say, I did not meet my weekend writing goals. Sebastian didn’t have any goals, so he’s not terribly bothered about missing Friday’s post (I’ll make him make up for it later.) 

Most of the videos I flagged were on bullet journaling, so when I needed something to kickstart my brain this morning, I made some tea, and hauled out planner supplies, to move around some planner guts, so that the right guts made it into the right covers. This may have been more complicated than it sounds, but, as soon as I quit thinking about it, and let instinct lead, well, what do you know, I Have my entire sleep tracker for 2019 all set out, one notebook set aside for practical information, and another, with so far no entries, for reading and writing use. 

The reasons this book has no entries as of yet is because that’s about when my brain fizzled out, and I needed to hop in the idea generator, aka shower, before I could plop myself back at ye olde kitchen table and figure out what the tasks for the day would be. Going to bed (note, I did not say “back” to bed, because hello insomnia) and then do what needs doing. 

When asked if I am a plotter or a pantser, I usually say puzzler, because that’s how I work best. Take this thing over here, take that thing over there, which go together I don’t know how, at the moment, but I know that they do. For instance, last night, while I babbled to a captive audience of Sick Housemate (she knows where her tea comes from) about why I haven’t been able to use the planner case I’d been wanting to use, and have right the heck there, it was that I was trying to combine blush pink and berry color schemes, when I really wanted two separate books, one blush and one berry. Oh. Once that lightbulb went on, the whole process was a lot clearer, and I was able to, this morning, move the right guts into the right cover, and actually get started on filling pages. 

Savvy readers will get where I am going with this. One of the notebooks I’m setting up for the coming year is for writing related stuff. I’m not sure what, exactly. The first step is to make some lists. What are my obligations? Chasing Prince Charming, of course, and related things at The Wild Rose Press. Getting back on the horse with Her Last First Kiss, to get it from partially second-drafted, to ready to shop around, and figure out what my next historical romance will be. 

What that figuring out looks like, however, is often a mystery, until it isn’t. I need, I have found, to cannonball off the dock, break the surface of the water on my way back up, and then figure out where the heck I am and how far it is to shore. Maybe someday, I will be able to explain it better, but the best work happens when I am doing, and not thinking. That used to be a lot easier, like when I was pounding out x number of pages every day on a typewriter on a tv tray in my father’s living room, because, well, nobody had told me I couldn’t. I didn’t know any better, and so I cannonballed in, splashed around, and off I went. Many of us have heard of Beginner’s Mind, which is a very useful thing, and I would like to add to that, Beginner’s Bravado, which is something I’m actively working to cultivate in the now. Re-cultivate, I should probably say. 

Ironic, then, when I sit at my desk to work on today’s entry, and find that Pixlr Express has changed its whole method of operation, and I am, once more, flailing about in the shadows. Where are my frames? Why does the picture warp when I apply an effect? I am certain I will figure this out, soon enough, but I found it amusing. 

The end of a calendar year brings a lot of changes. It still doesn’t feel like the holidays yet around here. Our tree and ornaments are still in their boxes, I have read zero holiday romances, though I did finish a historical romance with some pivotal scenes at Christmas, and my Christmas playlist has, so far, been silent. This is not like me. I’m not worried, though. It will come around, and the writing for the year to come, will take its own shape, as long as I keep showing up and doing my part. Also, playing with pretty pens and paper doesn’t hurt. 

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