Writing in Summer

Carl Larsson painted the image at left before 1919 - exact date unknown. It does look like a lovely day.

Haying my meadows will be upon me in another three weeks. For now, they are tall and lush and full of mosquitoes and other critters. Hare, mostly. The foxhound isn't doing his job.

(He's snoring behind me right now).

I'm trying to evolve my meadows into a seasonal wildflower patches and that takes care and control to eliminate brush and sumac at its earliest stage.

I'm doing much the same with my writing. I'm being careful, steadfast, regular. I'm trying to prune the story into a form which tells the tale through the characters and less through my machinations.

I'm feeling good about the progress.

I'm considering building a summer studio. I'd like a separate studio from the house where I could spread out and fill all the corners; but, there's no need for it.

I would like a screened porch where I could work into the evening. My house doesn't lend itself to such a thing thus I'm considering a screened studio near the raspberries.

It probably won't come to pass. I hate to shingle anything and building a studio - even a screened deck of a studio - requires a proper roof and a roof means shingling and that's just right out for me. No proper writer has a contractor build his studio!

So, incentive to make a go of it: I get a summer studio from which to work in these brief summer months. After all, once we have the Hollywood contract for famously oddball ideas they'll be money aplenty for such things, right?

I've a nice library with a ceiling fan and two walls full of windows. I should be content.

That's just it, though. Writer's aren't content. If we were content and happy, we'd have nothing to say.

Scratch a little bit and you'll find a person who is comfortable in about 2% of their daily life. That's about the same yearly ratio as we have those perfect summer days to enjoy, isn't it?

Welcome, comrades.

Now. Let's write about murder. I'm chortling with glee. Can you hear me? Try a little chortle, too.

It's good for you. As you write. In the summer.