Blame It on Writer's Block
It happens sometimes, to writers. The brain, cramps up and, doesn't help you think straight.
Yesterday, I was going to post a nifty folk story, I've been working on, for months.
Several different sources, gave me various versions of the tale. That can be handled.
Folklore can change from one village to another. And the storyteller may modify it a bit.
It just, wouldn't all come together, for me, last night. Brain and body said, "Go home."
So, that's what I did. Didn't even stop by a watering hole for my usual few beers.
Things Were Looking Brighter Today
Up before the sun, I checked to find out what the meteorologists predicted for today.
Cold and, mostly cloudy, they claimed. Good. Bundle up warm and do office work all day.
If, it was mostly sunny, I'd have been tempted, to walk for hours, outdoors with the camera.
With six pages of copy paper, attached to a clipboard, I started my rough draft.
The world's worst typist, I like to do a scribbled outline and, smooth on paper, first.
To start, I draw about a one inch column on the right side of each page. That's for notes.
Why a clipboard? That comes in handy, when I go outside for a break. Pen comes, too.
Sitting down, at a desk for more that 20 minutes, ain't natural, for me.
So, I get up stretch and, go out to a picnic table, where I can think clearly and, smoke.
The clipboard, keeps things from blowing away. And, my brain works best outdoors, too.
Grinding away, things were getting organized and, some progress was being made.
Then, about three, in the afternoon, everything came to a halt. Brain stopped working.
Cuss, stand up and stretch; get out of the office for some fresh air.
Sunshine and Blue Skies with White Clouds !
The clipboard and pen, are my witnesses. I scratched a few more notes and, quit.
There's no sense, writing once the gears in the brain stop spinning.
With the Pentax, a big lens and the tripod, I went hunting for an eagle, who never showed.
Walking around in a quarter mile circle, from my office, I grabbed an occasional iced coffee.
Sunshine and cold coffee, can work wonders on my spirits, even on a December day.
The trees in that animation, are where, I was hoping to catch, that elusive feathered friend.
The bird never showed and, I was out there for over two hours. So, I got thinking.
Just shoot the clouds and trees. Maybe, someone will appreciate them.
The weather, can change every five minutes, on this island. Poor weathermen.
How can they decide, what to tell us, when it can change so suddenly?
The weather, can be as fickle as a mail order bride. Somebody, said that on TV once.
It might have been that guy Gabby Hayes, with the chuckwagon, on a Western.
Well, I never had a mail order bride or even, ever fickled one. But, it's true.
Well, tomorrow possibly, I'll be done fickling around with that folk story.
That's providing, the sun don't shine !