Two weeks since my last post, and, frankly, I’m surprised. Did I dive under the covers in a final rebellion against winter gloominess? Almost.
The other day I realized that I wasn’t thinking about much of anything. My blogging brain went on hiatus. Earning-money brain took over for awhile. I’m sure it’s the adjustment. Up until now, I’ve been on the writing grant: all creativity, all the time, with plenty of cerebral space for blogging brain and fiction brain.
I hope earning-money brain pipes down so that blogging brain will regain space. The only reason I’m blogging today is because I scheduled it in. Scheduled it in. Oy. And I had to leave the house to get it done. (Not that I mind sitting in cafes.)
In truth, this not-thinking-about-much-of-anything business feels good, as if I’ve been vacationing far, far away from my bad-ass, overthinking self. I’m relaxed, rejuvenated, ready for the thoughts to start again.
And, guess what? I’ve only got two chapters left for this round of revisions! Something to say for myself, after all. I had that epiphany last month, which has led to further revelations. So, another round coming up. It’s all good.
Just now, the women in the photo said, “I’ve always wondered who reads blogs.” She said this like, What’s the point? I used to wonder the same thing. All I can say in this moment, sipping a nonfat latte, listening to The Black Keys (a bluesy duo; good stuff) background music, sitting in a wing-back chair, that I’m enjoying myself.