You're probably reading this indoors. Like me, you're likely at home, snowed in. But I'm not complaining. I've already fought the good fight yesterday at Wal-Mart and wrestled a loaf of marble rye bread away from an old lady. I purchased the last gallon of milk. I have 150 pounds of potatoes. And I'm ready to write all day . . . even if the power goes down.
A snow day is a great day to write, my friends. Although I'll be at home all day with my wife, she'll be writing, too. We might even have conversation. My son might awaken around 3 p.m. for breakfast. He will grunt, I will nod, and we will acknowledge each other's existence with a wave of the hand and a "How ya' doin'?" Later in the day, I will ask him if he would like to shoot a game of billiards (he will not); I will ask him if he would like to watch a movie (he will laugh at me). Perhaps, I might make overtures to my wife. Her responses will be much the same, only her laughter will be more protracted and evil. She will request that I shovel our 120 yard-long driveway. I will pass this request to my son. He will grunt and take a nap.
No . . . a snow day is a great day to write. And I have plenty to write about. I've got novels in progress, several stories in various stages, book proposals I'm still developing, a fair amount of poems that need revision, and any number of essays I could begin, revise, or complete. Today might be the day.
I'm also expecting phone calls or email responses from a former New York agent and I'll likely hear from at least one editor online today regarding some other submissions.
A snow day is a treat. Normally I'd be up early, writing before sunrise, and then hitting the keys again before I go to bed late at night. But today is a snow day . . . and I have miles to go before I sleep (Robert Frost).
Stay warm!
No comments:
Post a Comment