Writing Fiction
Sunday
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Austin, TEXAS, January 22, 2006 — It's been a while since it rained. So it felt kind of decadent to stay inside in sweats, letting it rain or be cold, no problem.

I skipped the gym. I'd met my (admittedly modest) goals for the week. I still felt slightly guilty.

I'd like to say that I did a lot of chores. I didn't. Changing the sheets on the bed. Updating the family budget and checking the checkbook and credit cards. That's about it.

I'd like to say I got all the papers read. In fact, I was reading last week's, barely touching Sunday's.

I'd like to say that I ate a healthy diet. But a plate of migas FFP made, a snack of cheese and chips later and a wine dinner hardly qualifies. (Although the wine dinner touched on all food groups, or flesh ones at least, with tiny portions...a single large scallop, skate wing, duck confit, micro filet.)

I did waste a bit of time watching CBS Sunday Morning and the Austratian Open Tennis Tournament. A few plays of football.

But...I did some writing. Not only posting my journal (one of the tougher entries I've done for some reason as far as getting it finished). No, I actually reread and edited an essay (about my mother's illness) and...trumpet flourish...worked on two works of fiction. For one I just played with descriptions of the characters but for the other I worked on dialog.

Not that I think I'm now a novelist. Nope. But I want to write more. Different sorts of things. It's a good exercise. I realized how slow it goes, though. I am really amazed at people who can write huge works. Perhaps someone with an attention span like mine should stick to short stories. Oddly, I have a little set of short stories I've worked on recently (well, within the last year) but I couldn't even bring myself to reread them today.

self portrait in shop window...Tesoros Trading

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