Breathed upon

"A little less conversation, a little more action, please. All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me."

Where have I been? Each and every one of the two of you must have been beside yourselves with worry, n'est-ce pas? Tsk. Lemme tell ya. 

Playing the waiting game, always the hardest part. 

Acting the part, i.e. doing what writers are supposed to do, i.e. writing. 

Looking the part, studying and practicing the excruciating art of plotting (excruciating for me, not for you probably, you're smart, aren't you sweetie darlings, not creatures of instinct and intuition like...some people I know. They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but they, whoever the hell they are, say a lot of other stupid things this bitch has never bought so wuff, dawgs, just see if I don't).

Bushwhacking.

Daydreaming.

Feeding the soul. On the menu: photography, art, illustration, fiction and non-fiction, the music of Gotye and Mirel Wagner.

Enjoying the spring light, a natural high. So energizing it just makes me want to throw my arms around the world. And, the world being what it is, that is nothing short of amazing, but spring light will do that to you. Ooh, I feel another song coming my way. "I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony. If you're inclined to disagree, sod off and leave me be."

That's my last two weeks in a nutty shell. Believe you me, revamping thoughts and ideas, purging the soul and inviting inspiration works wonders for creativity and productivity. At least it works for me. The tree may look barren after a long harsh winter, but the sprouts look lush and promising.

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