It's getting late in the day for you normals out there, but it is to your credit to be aware and pay homage to the lonesome writer. Picture her as I do: seated in a Elizabethan style wing back chair, Siamese cat purring by her side and a steaming hot cup of Red Rose swirling next to her. Pen, thoughtfully poised only a breath away from her lips as she forms the next thrilling scene in her mind.
Ignore the idea that she is suffering near crippling pain in her right hand and is feeling more than slightly nauseous from lack of sleep coupled with an over abundance of coffee and left over pizza. Try not to imagine how the ticking of the clock sounds to one who feels she is miles away from her necessary amount of writing for the day.
Yes, Day 2 is shaping up to be a test of will power and creative prowess.
In my world, I took the girls to Charlottetown for I had planned to drop them off with family and do some drawing between morning and afternoon nap time. As is the case these last two days, things don't work out as planned. None the less, I met with The Wa and had lunch with Ann at Hunter's Ale House. Let it be known that after the wretched service we had at Hunter's Ale House I will not be returning.
That's about it for me. I feel like a blunt instrument and once I'm sure the girls are sound asleep I'm ducking out to the Petro to snag some chip dip, then kick back and watch 'Pan's Labyrinth' in the dark. With my chip dip.
Tomorrow: DAY 3 "THE FINAL BATTLE".
(...that is if you ignore the fact that she'll THEN have to start typing the bloody thing out into proper manuscript format. Aren't YOU glad you don't write for a living?)
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