My bare feet traced lazily through the slightly yellowing grass on my way to check the mail. As a fallen plum squished through yesterday's perfectly manicured toes, I thought to myself, "It certainly has been a long time since I wrote on my blog." And indeed, the mailbox showing no fan mail, again, confirmed that I must get a-writin'. So, while my delicious bran muffins are in the oven, I advance.
I have a great friend that has read 17 books and written nearly two this summer. Have you noticed how summer is only about half-way through? The grass already has. I've read The Ultimate Gift, Inkheart, Twilight, New Moon or Eclipse (whichever comes second), Le Petit Prince (in French of course), Harry Potter 7 (ah what joy), and I've started Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (which already, as I told one friend, I have fallen deep in curious love with). I'm going to school right now so my readings are assigned more so than hand-picked. But the other night when I was reading Alma 34 (that's in the Book of Mormon) I suddenly had this image of a simple one room event and I reached for my pen, somehow turned off my inner-editor, and wrote about 7 small-notebook-from-France pages of a story. It felt like I'd finally gotten to The Smart Gym: For brains and Intellect. Finally a good work out. Upon revision of course my editor is disgusted and just wants to reject every line. But I've put the event on paper.
Well, 18 minutes are up. These are some delicious bran muffins.