We’re writers. Of course, we work from home, but it’s not easy. Just now I was typing Greg’s handwritten pages and the cat jumped up on my desk to look out the window, and then she sat right in the middle of the pages I was working from. So I had to persuade her to go elsewhere.
Also, so many distractions. I need to do this, there’s something on the floor, oh, that’s dusty. Not so much on the computer. I check my email in the morning and two or three times during the day, latest right after dinner. Facebook once or twice a week, most important posts come through to my email.
But I get to sit at my desk and look out at my green back yard and blue lake, although it’s more like gray now, with the overcast. I can eat when I want, use my own bathroom.
Now to writing. I finished a draft of my book and have been working on two stories. Something in my mind won’t let me stop writing. I keep wanting to know what happens next.
Something ironic. The big chief babbles that things are incredible. Doesn’t he know that ‘incredible’ means impossible to believe?