I'm sitting here with fresh corn and beans on the table, banana bread on the counter and zuccinni bread on a plate. Not to mention the watermelon that's trying to hide behind my computer (and failing miserably). It's a summer thing. I think I've spent more time in my garden this summer than ever before, and I love it.
Still, it's a problem. I'm a writer. I don't have a job yet, so I should be writing rather than wandering through my garden. I have been spending a lot of time editing, but I have this book that I've been working on and my brain just doesn't want to get into it. I write fantasy and science fiction, not contemporary suspense. So I've been stalling, although not deliberately.
Then last night I kept dreaming it. Over and over, like my brain has finally gotten in gear and now it's ready to push me.
It's rather like waiting for my garden. I plant the seeds, and wait. Little green sprouts pop up, and I wait. I shift from foot to foot and wander outside every ten minutes to see if something is growing yet, then eventually it gets to the point that I'm going outside to see if something's ripe. Usually not.
Then summer rears its head and the beans and and tomatoes and beets and peaches and plums and grapes all come on (they only SEEM to come on all at once) and we're leaking corn out our ears and our eyes are green from all the zuccinni.
And now I have all these stories in my head and I want to write write write, but this one is ripe right now and I need to finish it before I start something else or it'll spoil.
In a sense. :)