Day three hundred twenty-three of my 365 Day Writing Project.
Book two is limping along, slowly but surely. Lately I am too drained at the end of the day to write much. Life is busy. Work is demanding and stressful. I curse the day job. Except for the regular paycheck, I curse the day job. Well…except for the regular paycheck and the continuous conveyor belt of delicious writing material laid out before me, I curse the day job.
All right, I admit it. As much as the day job adversely affects the time and energy I have left in a day to write, it does have its benefits. I get ideas for stories all the time. Some of my experiences are so wild and colorful and unexpected and puzzling and crazy and just plain interesting, I can only defer to the old saying: “you can’t make this stuff up.”
It’s the stuff great stories are made of. It’s too good. And some day I will write about as much of it as I can, in the context of fiction and complete anonymity for those who may be connected to the material. Until then, I long to write. The ideas keep coming, and I long to write about them.
Someday, I will.