NO!
Writers gotta write.
Many of them are so dedicated to and passionate about their craft, they hate reality in every way. That was how I could describe yesterday around noon, if not every day of my life.
The beginning of this past week was off to a rough, slow start. I was a little under the weather, combatting allergy and sinus symptoms. My husband and I thought it was more than likely due to the blooming Bradford Pears (or the bloomin' Bradford Pears, however you want to put it). Therefore, instead of making the most of my mornings in writing as much as I could until lunchtime, I rested. I hate doing that because I love writing so much and hate wasting my spare time. Writers gotta rest at times, too.
As the week unfolded, I was able to get past my achy head, runny nose, and tiredness and to resume writing. And I did better than I expected. Yesterday was especially like that, which, I've noticed is different from the way I used to have it.
For a long time, I would be so tired by Friday afternoon, I'd be depleted of creative juices. The converse seems to be the case these days. But I had errands to run and a few things to do around the house. No matter what I did, I couldn't easily pry myself away from my desk.
I eventually did. Once I got into a flow of activity, mostly ironing and cooking dinner for the week to come, I put on some music. What was I going to choose? Paul McCartney & the Wings? Beasto Blanco? Stryper?...Whose music did I really crave after a week of hard work in spite of seasonal sniffles? Whose music would be ideal in getting my mind off of the drudgery of Friday afternoon tasks?
With the raw melodies of "Hello There" and "Big Eyes" coming out of my laptop speakers, I continued alternating between cooking dinner and ironing the weekly load of permanent press.
Then, it hit me...
How about I have occasional parts in Writing Soulmates with Brian Eastman's point of view? Someone had suggested it, but I didn't realize the beauty it would add to the storyline until I was doing my least favorite weekly task, ironing, while listening to one of my favorite albums.
The question now is: Was this epiphany brought to my mind when I was ironing or listening to Cheap Trick, or both?
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