Nothing today has gone as I planned. 

In my head, that sentence was profoundly insightful.  Once written, I recognize the reality – nothing ever goes the way I plan, and normally I know better than to make plans in the first place.  That way, when the plans (don’t) go awry, I’m not surprised, irritated, and consequently bitchy.

Yep.  I said the B word, which is exactly where this day has left me.  Not a bad day, if I’m honest – just not the day I wanted it to be.  I had visions of writerly sugar plums dancing in my head, and only got in an hour or two of mediocre work.  I could be working now, but instead I’m Blogging about nothing in particular, sharing not very inspiring thoughts that would probably be better kept to myself. 

In reality, I’m happy with my life.  I just want more of it.  (“life piled on life/were all too little”…) More time to write, more time to sit in the sun, longer hugs, a larger stomach capacity so I can enjoy more food, a higher tolerance for alcohol.  Oh, a way higher tolerance for alcohol. One glass of wine nearly puts me under the table, a limit I am rapidly approaching.  More money, with which to do more things.  More time.  More years, more days, more time to sleep, more time to play.  More words.  More motivation. 

Ah, motivation.  Kind of related to planning, that word.  I prefer intention.  Not the kind of intention that’s going to pave my way to hell, either.  I’m talking about Intention with a capital I, the way the New Agers use it.  Sort of a cosmic destination point.  The logistics don’t matter so much at this point, all those details that the devil is always wreaking havoc with.  I am still writing.  I am writing now, I will be writing when I have posted this Blog, and tomorrow morning when I regret posting it.

I will be writing tonight in my sleep, as those endless plot dilemmas play out in my dreams.  I am making progress on Filling in the Blanks, even if it’s not as rapid as I like, I’ve only got about 100 pages to go on this third and hopefully final revision.  I will be writing as I craft a synopsis and a query, and then I will journal my hope and despair as I send my baby out into the cold cruel world of the publishing industry.  With, of course, the Intention of finding it an audience.

And I think, now that I’ve written away the unrealistic guilt of a day spent doing necessary tasks not involving my novel, maybe there is a little energy reserve left to address at least a page or two before I make an end.

Tomorrow, as they say, is another day, with no plans in it as yet.

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