No title and nothing much to say. Not much news on the writing front. I’ve been trying to get work done, but very little is coming out. A bit every day or so, but nothing to cheer about.
I think I’m watching too many movies and not reading enough. Or maybe reading too much and not writing enough. Or maybe thinking too much and not writing enough. Or maybe…wait, where was I? Oh forget it.
So I have one piece about driving and another about squirrel hunting. Those really aren’t totally what the stories are about, but that’s what I’ve started to think of them as: the driving story and the squirrel story. That’s bad. It means they aren’t moving forward, but I knew that already anyway.
I have this new pocket watch–well, really it isn’t new, it’s 100 years old, but it is new to me. Anyway, it’s the type of watch that actually ticks. Something I never took notice of about contemporary watches is that they don’t really tick.
This one does.
I leave it on my dresser, next to the bed. At night, it’s about the only thing I can hear.
I’m not trying to be “literary” here. I’m not trying to say that all I can think about is the passing of time–though it isn’t far from my thoughts. I’m just saying that all i can hear at night is that damn watch.
I’m not drinking. I’m just writing. I usually do this type of writing where no one else will see it. You know, it’s just exercise. Writers write every day, even if it isn’t a story. It’s like practising the guitar. Just have the keep the fingers limber. The mind too.
That’s why I’m going to stop.
So, to recap: No new writing news, I’m doing too much of one thing and too little of another, and all I can hear at night is my pocket watch.