In the summer, the place I write most often is out on my deck early in the morning with a cup of coffee in my right hand and a pen in my left. Back deck if it's cool, front deck if the sun is already at 36C like this morning! Today the sky is so blue I want to dive in and go for a swim. The sun so warm, my coffee stays hot. Birds twitter, coo and chirp and make sounds that have no words. Silvery spider zip lines, flimsy yet strong enough to stop a grown man in his tracks to brush them off, zigzag between benches, chairs and the barbecue.
It is a lovely place to lose one's mind. To delve into creativity and forget time and appointments.
It is a great place to wait.
For books to find homes with publishers.
For my new print copies of Murder on Manitou and the bookrack cards that go with them.
For karate class.
For lunch.
For another cup of coffee.
But, as every other day, there is no time to sit and wait. Time to write. Time to soak in the peace.
Time to dash off into the many parts of my life that refuse to be patient.
Off to the next book....
It is a lovely place to lose one's mind. To delve into creativity and forget time and appointments.
It is a great place to wait.
For books to find homes with publishers.
For my new print copies of Murder on Manitou and the bookrack cards that go with them.
For karate class.
For lunch.
For another cup of coffee.
But, as every other day, there is no time to sit and wait. Time to write. Time to soak in the peace.
Time to dash off into the many parts of my life that refuse to be patient.
Off to the next book....