Winter in the Garden

This is a view Louis foxhound and I had this morning coming through the spruce trees and our little arbor at the edge of a shade garden. It is a little deceptive. We didn't get that much today but there is still nearly two feet on the ground.

Now is the time of planning the work. The spring is full of opportunity but I find if I plan a couple of large projects and two or three small ones, I've got a shot at getting it all done before Memorial Day. If I don't plan, then the multitude of things I want to do becomes crippling and I do very little.

I'm working through that scenario with the writing right now. The project at hand and the one after that. That's all I can spend any thought on at all. Oh, I've a dozen due for another re-write and another half-a-dozen needing a polish for submission and a novel that could use another draft and one that needs outlining and ...

This one, then the next. That's all I can stand in current memory. The others? They have to wait.

I'm in winter. It isn't yet my spring. I'm building the foundations that pay off in the future. I have to keep telling that to myself.

I finished a scene this morning that had been a little problematic. First prose drafts can be that way. It took a while to hit my stride in tone and language I think works for these characters and works for showing the story I want to reveal. The rest goes better now. The whole thing can be "smoothed" to an even presentation in the next full draft.

I missed my writing friends today. I wanted to see three different groups but weather has caused some trouble on our roads. I wrote at a coffee shop alone this morning - though it was a fine session. It's a small town coffee shop and those are the best kind. A handful of people. Everyone keeps to themselves. No loud conversations. Only missing bookshelves to be a library, really.

I missed a wedding reception for a couple of writing associates from another group. I'm sorry I missed their reception. Perhaps I'll see them Tuesday night and will make amends.

I missed talking with a writer who has great promise but has large demands on his time and mental exertions. He's writing more, though. I want to encourage that. He tells great stories and I want to see his novels in print. I think part of our job is to encourage.

So, a little lonely with a bit of cabin fever. Doing fine. Writing. Having fun. Doing the things I need to do.

Snow tonight. Surprise, surprise. It's winter and little is blooming.

Write something. Set it somewhere warm.