I'm in a funk. The sky's gray, and so is my mood. I don't like to feel weighted down--lead in my boots, stones sewn in my hem, burdens of a lifetime on my back.
The manuscript that looked so shiny and fun the other day, now lies like a pile of rubbish--shredded scenes, dingy dialogue, pointless plot.
I could use Cher to slap my face and shout, "Snap out of it!" Lacking that, I've looked around for something bright and hopeful.
I found these photos I shot the other day in a bank parking lot. (Sorry to my readers still blanketed by winter.)
Poppies, with their shocking colors and delicate petals bobbing on long stems, are pretty much a pick-me-up.
Flowers of any kind are astonishing. However did such temporary flashes of brilliance, coupled with practical propagation, evolve?
Thoughts such as these always bring me back to the realization that I get to live in this extraordinary world and should damn well make the most of whatever time is allotted me.
I'm going to eat a chocolate croissant for breakfast and run barefoot in my dreams. I'm kicking off the lead boots and yanking the stitches from my hem so the stones can clatter back to the earth where they belong.
And I'm determined to look kindly upon my poor manuscript and see its moments of brilliance (I hope) even as I remedy its flaws.
So what do you do when you need to snap out of it?