One of the reasons I don't post a lot is because it feels like every post has to have a MEANINGFUL SUBJECT. Sometimes that just doesn't work, however. Okay most days. For me, anyway.
Today I'm in self-imposed exile, working through the feedback I received on a couple of works in progress, followed by the drafting of a flash story I have to turn into my writing group by Tuesday. I've had a long dry spell this year, but lately ideas have been popping into my head faster than I can get them down. I'm taking copious notes, though. And then there's the thorny problem of turning them into actual living, breathing, stories. Bit of magic involved with that last part. And magic is fickle, even on the best of days.
Next week will see a veritable avalanche of poetry submissions. Going out, I mean. I've been working on poems all year but have submitted very few. Don't ask me why. I'm not sure I could even put it into words. Call it a crisis, I guess. It hasn't been a great year, emotionally speaking. HOWEVER. Everything passes, even the bad stuff. Time to get back to it.
Outside my window right now there are so many butterflies that the territorial male hummingbirds are getting pissed and trying (in vain, I might add) to chase them away. For their part, the butterflies are ignoring them, floating around, doing whatever they damned well please regardless of the buzzing dive bombers circling overhead. Nature is so cool, if only we'd slow down long enough to appreciate it.
We saw Atomic Blond last night, and I do believe it warrants a post of its own, though that will be a treat for another day. Today I have to FOCUS, even if I don't want to.
Back to it.