She never wasted time on irony. Except when she did.
Like when her health declined in middle age to the point she believed she would never be the same again. Being defeated by illness will do that to a person.
So there she was again using that word, as if she could ignore how ‘never’ seemed to bubble to the surface of her existence as ‘maybe’ time and time again. As if her declarations of ‘never’ could be etched in glossy granite, scarring deeper with each utterance. As if she knew the most about her life and could direct its path by casting a word out into the universe.
At least she might find solace in being wrong. Because irony never wasted time on her, either. It played her swiftly and with ruthless honesty.
Someday, she might accept that within the penumbra of ‘never,’ possibility can shine through.
Maybe never. But maybe.
Day two hundred forty-six of my 365 Day Writing Project.
Not too long ago I had a good thing going. I was writing every day and chronicling my experience of writing my first novel. I was on a roll at a comfortable pace and settled into a comfortable groove. After about six months, I completed the first draft. But ever since then, my “roll” has turned into more of an awkward tumble. Somehow, I lost my groove.
I’m working on getting it back but I’m still out of sync. I think it is just going to take some time, patience and continued determination to reach my goal. Hopefully soon, I’ll tumble my way back into my groove again.
Day seventy-nine of my 365 Day Writing Project.
Have you ever had one of those nights when you look at the clock after what feels like minutes since the last time you looked, and you realize that almost two hours have gone by? That was me tonight.
I had a goal to go to bed at a reasonable time tonight. It was out of necessity, really. I made the goal for two reasons: 1) I went to bed waaaaayyyy too late last night; and 2) I have to get up extra early tomorrow morning. Because of this goal, I didn’t get as much writing done as I had hoped. Instead, I am making myself go to bed. As I should, since I was continually nodding off in front of my laptop over those elusive two hours.
Curfew is calling and I am going to abide by it. Time to dream about what I will write tomorrow. Good night.