The Writing Moment

Coffee as cold as the outside cement sidewalks was tasted, accepted, swallowed. Another writing session done. He’d written almost a quarter million words in that first exciting blurt phase. It had lasted about seven months. Everything thought up was woven into the narrative. Now, the cooler, methodical revision segment was upon him. After six weeks, he’d completed almost two hundred pages of revising. Four hundred pages remained. Total word count had been chopped to below 190K.

He’d always known multiple chapters were goners. They were nice placeholders for thought and plotting for a while. Now the story was taking shape. The words were more precious. They had to prove themselves as worthy of belonging.


Exflooftion (floofinition) 1. State of deep sleep enjoyed by animals.

In use: After eating and grooming, the floofs found comfortable places for exflooftion, staying there for hours with barely any movement.

2. Exhausted state caused by animal behavior or worry about animal(s).

In use: “Noticing his dog didn’t eat with the same gusto, he began watching his fur buddy’s behavior for signs of illness, staying up late and awakening often, bringing exflooftion on him.”

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Wednesday has broken. Feb. 8, 2023 has arrived on the calendar’s red carpet. Sunshine splashes through all the southern and eastern windowpanes. Cats find floor beams. The weather advisors say it’s 36 degrees F in my Ashlandia slice, sunny with few clouds, and a high of 56 degrees F on the plate. Sunrise cracked the night at 7:16 this morning while sunset is out over 5:34 PM. That’s enough daylight to lift my spirits and unplug me from that SAD cycling.

Springish clues turn my head to yard clean up and prep. Bushes and trees to be pruned and tidied, more leaves to be cleared from the yard. Want the house painted this year, too. Hiring folks for that.

Breakfast — oats with walnuts and raisins, flavored by cinnamon — has been consumed, cats attended three or four times. Half a cup of coffee drunk, black, no sugar.

My hospice friend is no longer on hospice. He finished the journey, eighty years old. On the other hand, Mom keeps fighting on, delivering news that she has ‘abdominal cocoon syndrome’. Fascinating what happens in our bodies.

I have a song in mind today from 1968, “Pictures of Matchstick Men” by Status Quo. It’s a classic in the sense that it brings home that sixties psychedelic sound. Hope you give it a listen to see if you know it, remember it, like it.

To the clouds and beyond. Stay positive. Make this day yours to remember. More coffee, please. Cheers

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