There's something refreshing about the early morning hours. That quiet time when even the occasional bark of a neighbourhood dog is absent. When the only sound is the roll and gurgle of the coffee maker. Summer is here and you can almost taste it in the air.
Warm air. Lots of people gripe, it's too hot - the air conditioner doesn't work. Me - it's only three months and I'm enjoying every moment of it. Keep your hand off that air conditioning I warn hubbie.
So this morning - I take the dog for a walk before the it gets too hot. The dog - at just turned eleven is still full of spunk but he's not quite as tolerant to the heat as he used to be. So before 7:30 a.m. I'm home and pouring the first cup of coffee for the morning. With coffee in hand, the day can really begin.
|A prairie road into a farm field.|
The story in question is strange, foreign to me. But I feel an odd connection even though the story and characters are entirely fictional. No matter what comes of it I feel myself stretching with its writing from using first person, a vast deviation from my comfortable third, to the fact that for the first time in almost two years I'm writing something that's not a suspense.
Interestingly enough, the new story doesn't steal room from the other instead it seems to give it room to grow without being forced to progress through unneeded words and meaningless word count. Instead the original story rests and then proceeds, a sort of jump start method that finally has gotten it on track. I think it was suffering a case of too much editing in the beginning. But the diversion of two stories seems to have put the spark back in a story that, because it became the focus of an award suffered a case of too much editing. That editing seemed to dampen the spark, remove the direction and the story waffled.
So I'm back on track in these quiet early morning hours. And then the phone rings. It's nine a.m. My mother-in-law has just a quick question for hubbie - I transfer the phone to him and try to begin again where I left off. Thirty minutes later the doorbell rings, this time it is a pair of young ladies. They're familiar solicitors. A pair that I hadn't had the heart to give an outright no to the last time they'd visited. I know what they want, even though they have not yet asked the question. This time I take the cowardly way out and don't answer the door. Maybe next time I'll give them that long awaited no.
Feeling slightly sneaky about the door dodging event I return to my well-aged coffee and my ever-patient story. It's a good day and despite the interruptions I've written a twelve pages. I'm just thinking that another page or so and this might be a good stopping place when the door opens and a friend emerges unexpectedly. The door was unlocked and so with a hi in my direction he heads off to find hubbie and the continual saga of our basement renovation.
And that was my morning. Did I mention it's my quiet time? This morning seemed busy but when I think back it's really more typical than anything.
Any quiet moments in your day?
July 14 I'll be hosting Terri Reed on her virtual tour with her new book "The Innocent Witness."
Stop by to find out about this author's exciting new release.
One commenter over the course of the tour will win a $25 gift card for Visa!