1. I am surrounded by deadlines and none of them have to do with fiction, well, unless you count the class I am taking starting Monday in which it appears the teacher is actually expecting a lot of hard work from us. This will be good for me even as deadlines close in one me like those walls in a bad sci-fi movie that threaten to squish me.
2. I met a new plant friend today, from the local native plant listserve. She came over to see what plants in my garden looked like in the dead heat of a California summer and we ended up talking for two lovely hours. It was wonderful to see my garden through her eyes, mistakes and all, and just to talk about native plants. What pleased me especially is that we walked from the front courtyard, down dogwood ally, to the glider in the backyard and it felt like a natural stopping point. Then we wandered the path the rest of the way until we reach the corner of the patio, my favorite spot. And it felt right, like the seating areas were in the right places.
3. The more I work on Flyboy the less I feel like I know what I am doing. Every sentence sounds boring and trite and the plot sounds too convoluted or maybe just way too busy and all my people feel the same. I hate this part of the writing business. I know to just plod on through and that’s what I’m doing and I need to remember that I go through this phase with every book but it doesn’t make it any easier.
4. I remember in my 20s when my kids were young and I could balance a multitude of projects at the same time. In my 50s now I realize I can’t do that anymore. It makes me crazy and then nothing gets done. It’s hard sometimes with all the internet noise, hearing what so many people are doing, especially the younger ones, but I need to let that go and recognize in this stage of my life less really is more.
5. I am still planning on starting a local writer’s meet-up. Really.