My brain is jumpy today.
One moment I’m considering a trip to the gym, the next I’m munching carrots in my Starbucks lobby, going over the last segment of chapter two.
I like where it’s going, but it still feels incredibly slow. But, this isn’t writing short fiction anymore. Chapters are long. Hell, the chapters I’m writing now are longer than most of my short fiction. So, I can’t tell if the scenes are in fact slow, or if I’m just letting my short story writer show.
This past weekend was gorgeous. Sunshine and blue skies and a temperature hanging in the high 40s. Not bad for January. But this week Oregon is back, reminding all of us just who’s in charge here.
Dense mercury clouds spit rain against my window as a brisk wind tears at the barren trees across the street.
Is it summer yet?
I’m feeling cold and a little stir-crazy. Cooped-up. I want to go tanning, to absorb more than my fair share of UV, but with my new cartilage piercing, it’s just not a good idea. Maybe in a couple of weeks.
I feel like nothing is ever quite enough. I’m never warm enough. The music is never loud enough. I never get enough hours at work, but I never have enough time off. I don’t write enough, and that one’s true. I’m in a constant state of quandary.
But, this seems to be normal for this time of year. It’s just my mid-winter blues. Though I’m not really blue. Not sad at all, just tired and irritable. Frustrated. For no other reason than there isn’t enough sunshine.
But, I’m here today, and I’m looking forward to finishing this chapter. Over 1,000 words to go to make that happen, but I have about three hours to do it. If I’m good, and I focus, it should happen.
Plus, the next scene is where the ball really gets rolling. A new murder to add to the string Whit’s investigating, and this one right under his nose!
Right after I nom on a Spinach Feta Wrap.