Yesterday morning the house was quiet - grandson gone home, guests gone home, son sleeping his teenage Sunday sleep - so I did what I love best: slid out of bed, put the coffee on and sat at the keyboard facing the river to write 2,000 words before 10:30 am. Stinky and smushed from sleep is the best state from which to access the muse, I've found. With a bucket of coffee and some leftover Christmas ginger cake.
On a Facebook writers' group, the question was posed, "What is your writing mood?" with which you begin the year, and I posted "jubilant". Who would have thought that at such a ripe age that the juices would flow more richly than ever? Huh.
So not only did I tap out the first couple thousand words of my new "mystery" story, in the afternoon I got down to spitting and polishing a couple of short works for submission. One to a contest and one to Grain Magazine. I have two other stories entered in other contests, so I can only hope that one or two will catch hold and take root... to grow the tree to make me eligible for a grant. A grant to take me to Banff. That is my dream... a residency at Banff to finish Weather Vane.
Step one: get published. Step two: apply for a grant. Step three: apply for residency. I'm on it. Wish me luck.