"Talent is long patience." Gustav Flaubert
I've taken pains to line up some time to sit here and work on writing fiction, finishing a short story or working on My Novel. The one that exists primarily in my head. I avoid talking about it much here because I am a) struggling, staring at an empty screen & b) I sound like I am vying for the American Idol, dopey and dreamy-eyed, and perhaps, delusional.
But be that as it may, I've made this goal a priority and I want see it through, despite my efforts to the contrary.
See me cleaning my house and watching Bette Davis in a less complimentary version of Elizabeth, in the Virgin Queen - like I need more Tudor-obsession in my life.
(Joan Collins as Beth! I could spend all day! Avoiding writing!)
By mid-afternoon, I clutched my laptop, closed my eyes and channeled my best brave Anne Lamott, minus the dreadlocks - because I just can't pull it off - and pushed my way through a 1000 words.
Something tells me it isn't going to be any easier today. Nothing worthy ever is.