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Reading: Corsets and Clockworks  (I think)

Drinking: homemade vanilla decaf soy latte

Watching: Glee!

I had a moment.  I was listening to Robbie Williams singing ‘Have you met Miss Jones?’ from the Bridget Jones movie.  And I remembered the silly home video they play at the end of the movie with him singing about Bridget splashing about and whatnot. And it made me realize that I’m that way.  I mean, I’m a handful.  Which can be construed by others as “too much”.

My wonderful, dear friends (of whom at the moment, I think are 3 that actually read this blog, but I pray for more over time) you can never be ‘too much.’  I don’t mean the people who get angry all the time or throw things for no reason. I mean the people who have such an imagination, who daydream (without falling down sewer holes if you know what I mean), who want to and believe they can change the world.  We are so so interesting!  People who always do the proper thing and don’t get emotional about anything… they have no fire in their bellies, no passion in their hearts. Stay away from them! At least until you can develop a thick skin, and let me tell you, it takes years upon years to do that. And if you can’t stay away from them and you don’t have a thick skin, don’t share your dreams with them. They will just try to shove you down and tie you to the ground so you can’t go back up and float in the clouds. Don’t listen to them. Be responsible in your life, but don’t listen to them. Don’t let them tell you you can’t do things, that you aren’t any good at it and that you’ll never amount to anything so just be a lawyer.

Do you know why I brag about the fact that I failed English at Ottawa U? Because you don’t need to have the degree or the honours or the papers to write a book.  I took Forestry for goodness sakes, and while I was brilliant (my words, not theirs) at the tree silviculture and identification and horrible at the maths, I still wrote a book. My dreams came true! I don’t even know what to do with myself except pinch occasionally to remind myself that this is happening!

But I will give credit to my God. Because I honestly don’t believe it would have happened without Him. And I must tell you, He doesn’t think I’m too much. He thinks I’m marvelous and funny and clever and wonderful.

I happen to agree with him.

Ok, I’m done babbling. I don’t even know if this post makes sense because I’m just gushing in the way that I do.

Happy unpredictable day.

the book won’t be in Canada until August 31st. BOOOOO!!!! Not terribly happy about that, but I can’t do anything about it so I’ll just sneak down to the US and gaze at it fondly at the bookshelf at Barnes and Noble.

I ‘think’ I’ve figured out my whole ‘Miss Flaversham’ thing. Which is very cool for me but crazy for you because I can’t tell you any of it.  Except that it’ll be good.

My sweet, darling, wonderful husband bought me a prezzie.  The new Kindle.  Oh I was so excited and not expecting it at all!  It took me a little while to figure out how to work it, and to find the free books area, so now I have 10 books downloaded (all free and classics) so now I get to read with it. But at the moment I’m reading Harry Potter in paperback.  I love that book. Not just because of the story but because it’s the first book my husband ever bought me.  It was on the way to a show I had to do for Almonte Valley Players and we’d always stop in at the Mac’s Milk and get a grape crush so I could burp away my nervousness before starting. (I am amazing on stage, but before I go on? I’m a mess.) And there it was, sitting by the cash.  We didn’t have very much money, but he bought it for me. It was 10$.  I married well.  That man knows my heart, inside and out.

Ok, I have some writing to do.  Many chapters to meld but I’m up to 34,000 words! Yay!

Listening to: the clock ticking behind me. It’s making me a little crazy. Need music, I think. CBC radio?

Reading: Harry Potter, first book.  And my Kindle!

Watching: tonight? So You Think You Can Dance!

Eating: crackers and brie. And a venti, soy, no water, no foam, tazo chai.

But she’s not in there. We knock on each door upstairs to hear a small voice say ‘come in’.

Mrs. Kelly, this is very strange, but are we allowed to interview you in your bedroom?

Whatever. Do you want an almond?

Um, no thank you. We actually just came by to do a quick interview but if you’re having a nap…

No, I’m not napping.

Well, what are you doing? We expected to find you typing away on your new book.

I am.

I don’t mean to point out the obvious, but you aren’t typing at all. Actually, you don’t even have a computer in here. And you’re lying in bed, under a very thick gray blanket with a bag of almonds beside you.

I’m working.

?

I’m working.  She pops an almond in her mouth.

Well, the reason we’re here today is to ask you a very specific question in which all writers have different answers.

Gray.

Excuse me?

Gray. My snuggly blanket is gray. Isn’t that what you wanted to know?

Ah, no. The question we would like answered is, ‘How do you deal with Writer’s Block?’

You’re looking at it.

From what I understand, you’re lying in bed with a gray fuzzy blanket on top of you, your snuggly-blanket, and you’re eating almonds?

And staring out the window.

And staring out the window.

And feeling sorry for myself. Hence, the gray blanket.

Why do you feel sorry for yourself?

Because I have writer’s block.

Um, is that a good cause to feel sorry for yourself? I mean, I could understand if your dog just died, but to feel sorry for yourself because you have writer’s block?

Self-pity doesn’t need a logical excuse. She stares out the window.

No, I guess it doesn’t. So what you’re saying is, when you have writer’s block, you lie in bed and stare out the window and eat almonds?

Pretty much.

You know some people deal with writer’s block differently. They do some freehand writing, they go for a walk, they read some encouraging words. Have you tried that?

I did freehand writing this morning. I don’t want to go for a walk, I want to go for sushi. But hubby is painting. I don’t feel like reading. I’m quite happy lying here feeling sorry for myself.

You do know you’re being ridiculous right?

Yep. But this is how I deal with writer’s block. In a few minutes I’ll probably crawl underneath my duvet as well and cover my head. Then I’ll think sad thoughts about myself and my lack of writing skills. I’ll think that there is no way I can write another book and that my writing is crap. Then I’ll hide even further underneath the blankets. Then I might cry. But I don’t really feel like it. Then I’ll get very hot underneath the blankets and get seriously annoyed because I can’t breathe that well and I’ll come out. But probably because I have to pee. Then I might eat something. Then I might write again. Or not.

Thank you for your time.