Late last night I told myself, “when I get home, I’m gonna write some more.” I ended up doing some cleaning in the kitchen, talking to friends and family, barely little else. Soon it was time for some serious sleeping. I didn’t mind either. That’s the way that cookie crumbled. Still, I wanted to write more, and I didn’t.
Earlier that day, I spent some time trying to revise a short story. By revising I mean, “daring to cut chunks of it out and seeing what’s left.” This is me taking a suggestion from a few people that this story had some repetitive marks that could stand to be trimmed, and to make the page count a bit easier to digest. So I took out a pen and cut out lines I saw that didn’t advance the story. I felt like a butcher (not really).
So now I have a hand edited story I’d love to get to the actual file to adjust. I am also multi-tasking, and I need to eat. I did managed to scribble down what are the beginnings of some fables I hoped to keep working towards. At least I got a post done today. It’s a start to writing, right? Of course it is.
Happy creative endeavors.